


My Brother's Keeper

by FortunateM



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Betrayal, Brotherly Love, Child Abandonment, Fighting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Institutions, Mutilation, OC:Death, Panic Attacks, Physical Disability, Protective younger brother, Serial Killer, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 63,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortunateM/pseuds/FortunateM
Summary: When a serial killer leaves a trail of mutilated bodies, Raito's father and a 'representative' of L, request his help. When he refuses, what follows is the unravelling of the carefully constructed life of Raito: brother of a dead twin, keeper of secrets, and a man on the run from himself and a world that is closing in around him. But how do you outrun, outsmart and outplay the best detective in the world?  Especially when all the evidence points to you.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have enjoyed the process of writing this, my first publication and fanfiction. This story is both complete and 'unbetaed' at the time of posting.  
> I would love to know what you think.  
> Enjoy!

From a distance, high on a mountain, the world below sleeps.

Night has fallen. Branches rustle and bend obedient to the request of the night breeze, as it travels on an invisible nexus from the mountains, through the suburb on the outskirts of Kyoto, east of the mountainous regions of the Tamba highlands, to the cavernous hollow below.

The lush valley rests peaceful, surrounded on three sides by the crowns of round tipped mountains.

At this time of year, when the advancing season announces its intention, the surrounding trees morph into a canvas of autumn, while summer flees gracefully, with her tail of burnt ochre and withdrawing heat.

It is quiet in this particular street, but for the peripatetic cat with regal gait, stalking the various alleyways that separate the homes, looking for companionship, or perhaps solitude. 

A picturesque house stands prominent at the midpoint of a tree-lined road.

A nicely trimmed front lawn and a well-maintained path, leads to a vivid carmine door, with a pear shaped knocker. 

The entrance, freshly painted, welcomes you into a hallway of corn yellow and cream, with high ceilings bordered with crisp white Artex coving.

A large mirror reflects the vase on a refurbished table opposite, holding crossbreed dahlias with colours of white, pink, and orange, and bids ‘ _welcome to our conventional home’_.

Ahead, the modern kitchen with its matt silver and chrome appliances, untouched, lustrous, and holding pride of place, lead to a long finely decorated dining room.

To the right, a staircase, leading to the first floor, is cloaked in a soft Aztec carpet that runs along the middle of stained wooden steps, guiding towards the muffled grunts echoing from the first bedroom at the top of the stairs.

The door is ajar.

Beyond, the movements of devotion captured along the ash white rays of a moon’s touch, flicker in the dark. The strokes, passionate and experienced, versed in the familiar movements, are fuelled by the beauty of the body, and compelled by the frenzy of immediacy.

The stroke of devotion casts again.

The femur bone turns to shards, and protrudes from the flesh, decorating the skin with broken and twisted veins, battered cartilage, and tendons.

The reflection in the mirror of the vanity table is of a large thigh muscle, now exposed against a departed pelt, offering no protection. 

A rigid upright shape, moves toward the lower regions of the lithe leg, feeling along the rises of the familiar limb. Then with the swiftness of a raised arm and dead drop of weight, they continue, shattering the bones of the tibia and fibula.

The skin, without resistance splits.

The body, covered by a coating of industrial polythene, shifts with each dead thud, while the blood, limited in its trajectory, escapes from the hidden depth of the body, settling into crevices, and seeping into the sheets and mattress. An expanding shape of irregular darkness silhouettes the marred form.

After each limb has yielded, the figure moves to the hand and feet, changing the choice of implement from the many resting at the foot of the large chateau style bed. A tarnished metal against swirls of white colonial chic.

This implement is of particular pleasure, and the slow grind of bone against bone, eventually accedes to the pressure, and crumbles under the escalating crush. A finger snaps to the side - a right angle of perfect degree. 

The sound of illusory cries engulf the cracked mind, reaching a unique pitch that drifts to a place of vacuous darkness and where reality bows to insanity.

The figure moves to straddle the gurgling body, as it continues to release its liquor, to pry open the lax mouth. The edge of the pliers slowly searches into the opening, and with practised ease, removes one tooth. 

It is a truly mastered gift.

Eight front teeth, that include the central and lateral incisors of the maxilla and mandible, and the tongue, which needs persuasion in the way of digging and gauging, are the last trinkets to be removed from its host.

The eyes of the encased figurine, remains open, staring at the high textured ceiling.

The lack of pain relief in the form of an analgesic was a calculated move, regardless of the high probability of convulsion. She was ordained to feel pain.

Several moments later, the physical body, is deceased.

The victim’s wish for death came in the form of a single stroke, deep and long uncovering the viscera through the dense ribcage.

The eyes remain open as life drifts to another plane of whispering existence. 

From start to finish.

37 minutes.

************************

Smiling, he bends down and whispers into her ear, cupping his hand as close as possible to prevent any intrusion of noise, and his quiet voice hums through the canal. He has told her this secret a millions times but will not falter in telling her a million times more.

She squeals and giggles as only children do, covering her mouth to stifle the effervescent sound, and raising her shoulders in delight, her neck almost disappearing amidst the folds of her clothes; beautiful brown eyes are lost behind the rise of soft caramel rouged cheeks.

After a few moments of soft secrets, she disappears inside. Ruffles of sky blue flail behind her.

Moments later, squeals of laughter escape through the open glass doors of Nikkou Independent School.

She found her friend. And shared the secret.

Education is free in Japan and 99% of children from elementary school age can attend. However, parents and guardians shoulder the additional expense of lunches, books, private lessons (Juku), and uniform. In some cases, families cannot afford to send their children through the educational system so invariably, remove their children completely.

‘The Nikkou School for Disadvantaged children’ in Chiyoda, a municipality of Tokyo, was an initial afterschool charity, run by families for families of disadvantaged children; funds donated by independent organisations. The school, the creation of Takian Yamoai in 2010, had a simple ethos: To provide an education for children unable to attend school.

In 2013, The Nikkou School for Disadvantaged children received an ‘Excellence Award’ from the Japanese Society for Language Development (JSLD), for its repeated contribution to afterschool languages. In 2014, it received a second award for ‘Outstanding Contribution to the Arts’ for Drama and Music from the Japanese Society of Arts (JSA). The notoriety of the school grew and so did the class size and premises. 

In 2015, the school became a full time institution, with the name change to ‘Nikkou Independent School’ with regular school hours and full time classes. The school’s ethos did not stray from the foundations from which it was borne, and remained an institute for the disadvantaged, achieving third place for ‘Outstanding Quality of Education and Care’ in the Kanto Regional School Ranking in 2016.

Yagami, Raito, worked at the Nikkou Independent School since it founded in 2010.

He was eleven years old. 

He continued working at the school, after graduating high school in 2015 at the age of sixteen followed by university, with two coveted first class honour degrees: BSc in Psychology with Criminology, and BA in Business Administration with Computer Science. He went on to receive postgraduate degrees in Business Technology and a Postgraduate qualification in teaching.

Raito, worked evenings and weekends at the school, becoming a permanent event and funding manager at age eighteen, a role he increasingly devoted his time to over the years.

To the outside world, he was Yagami Raito, gracious son of two respectable parents, supportive brother to a younger sister, and twin to a deceased brother.

Raito, strolled around the encasement that housed a small garden, sand pit, vegetable patch, and wet play area; all segregated sections across a rectangular court.

Gathering toys in his arms, he tossed them one-by-one into their respective containers.

He glanced down noting the time on the watch his father had given him as a high school graduation gift nine years ago. The watch looked as pristine as the day he had received it, in his bedroom, where his father nervously spoke words of encouragement and praise. Raito had offered a handshake in return for his gift.

It took him six months before he wore the watch.

It was 4.28 p.m., and the sky, holding onto a vibrant hazy gold, now edged toward the end of the day; the usual light breeze whispered across the grounds. A welcome summons from the humidity of the prior season.

He gazed towards the horizon and observed the various trees situated along the outskirts of the school, heavy with the energising colours of transformation.

The deciduous trees, sparse and tawny stood almost naked, as the abandoned leaves layered the ground with their yearly offerings of light and deep maroons, rich reds, coffee and mahogany. Alongside the empress of colour, the cherry blossom, bestowing her fall colours of fuchsia, amaranth pink, and seared apricot. Completing an ode to autumn.

He relished the intricate bouquet that mingled with the freshness of the air, and the damp earthy scents of cultivation. 

Taking a deep breath, the soft orange bathes the contours of his face. 

For Raito, this will be his last still moment.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The devil is in the detail.

#  Chapter One 

His thoughts roused as he neared the family home. How often had he tried to stop himself from coming and to forget the ritualistic obligation as an accommodating son. He always failed to live up to his own expectations.

He could smell the familiar aroma that swathed the house in tradition, and wondered, as the time before, if he could do this again. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment and continued up the stairs, to the front door.

Compliant as before. 

The heavy scent of cooking found escape as he opened the door and entered. The warmth in the home meandered briefly between the higher and lower temperatures; then left in haste, taking with it the aroma of dishes to come.

His mother called from the kitchen as she heard the familiar unlatching of the door.

‘How was your day, son?’ Raito’s punctuality always made planning a meal easy.

Sachiko Yagami, a petite woman, with traditional Japanese features, dyed brown hair harbouring greys that refused to be lacquered, gave her son the usual smile as he entered. 

She accepted her role as homemaker, mother, and wife with a twining combination of concession and pride, and welcomed her son as always, every Tuesday, and Thursday evening, when he would eat dinner with the family. 

Entering the steamy kitchen, the usual preparations for another obligatory meal, created with him in mind, was there in various stages of completion.

A reason for leaving home - when you returned, you were special.

He smiled at his mother as he moved to the sink, rinsing his hands, in readiness for sampling the titbits on offer.

‘Today turned out to be exceptional. The two potential contributors we approached for fund donations confirmed their attendance for next week. One of the organisations, REKG Global had a turnover of 156 billion Yen, about 2 billion American Dollars last fiscal year,’ he said as he picked up and ate a stray julienne of carrot that lay abandoned on the chopping board, ‘there’s definite potential.’

Raito knew that a sarsen company like REKG, with a rapid accumulation of funds that begged for the investigation into their ‘legal’ trading and tax exemptions, were excellent candidates to target. If you managed to secure an audience, like many other ‘salubrious’ companies, you realised that atonement was a good thing when guilt held the reigns.

His mother busied herself and listened with as much keenness as her attention permitted. She had a stanch sense of pride for Raito, her only living son. He was strong in nature and stature and had grown into a man of integrity. Ignorant of his natural qualities, only served to add an air of charm to his indifference. 

It was a mother’s right to hold her children in such regard. And she did.

He stepped aside, as his mother straightened and reached behind to grab a small container. He always felt a little in the way, or more accurately, a hurdle the family had to overcome, at their scheduled time every week. A feeling of, ‘ _if we get through this, we can all breathe_ ’.

He continued to talk, watching his mother as she worked studiously on the meal.

‘They’re one of the leading Financial Houses of insurance and investment. They have subsidiaries in Akita and Tochigi and a Head Office in Tokyo.’ His voice receding as he bent down and opened the heavy worn oven door and inhaled the aroma of Foiru yaki salmon. His mother had made the same dish every second Thursday since he moved out. 

It used to be his favourite.

‘We managed to get a meeting, by word of mouth and modest nepotism, in the form of Mrs Arding-Waoin,’ closing the oven door and standing a few feet from his mother; watching her instinctive movements, he tactfully repositioned himself as she manoeuvred around him, ‘she’s married to the cousin of the Chief Operating Officer, whose sister and husband, have been regular donors to our school for two years.’ 

He continued, unperturbed by his mother’s disinterest, but with his need to impart some degree of knowledge and reach out to her in the only form of communication he knew and trusted. For this family, there was a kind of ‘justification’ for his presence in the house. They all knew what it was.

Forgiveness. 

Resting his lean back against the solid oak worktop, he regurgitated the information for his mother’s general knowledge. His eyes drifted to the steamer, as it toiled away on the right hand side of the stove, cooking the Shu Mai dumplings, as his mind drew him back to the fund raising event that took place in Tokyo in early March…

He had spoken to her, Mrs Arding-Waoin, intermittently throughout that event. She was wearing a blue sequined scoop dress, which cost around 129 thousand Yen, and she was happy to tell anyone who prompted a conversation about her gown.

Her conspicuous innuendos throughout the evening, made him lose his composure several times, so that night was primarily a demonstration in avoidance. Her funding potential, however, had kept him cautiously tethered to her sequinned side, and he managed to end the evening with a sedate kiss on the cheek, a donation, and a referral.

His mind abruptly returned to the present. ‘REKG is our prime target, stable and profitable. The other prospect is a smaller company, their financials, and annual turnover have significant potential. I believe we’ll be able to meet our fund target of fifty million Yen this year.’

Raito finished, pulling his arms across his chest, causing the dark blue jumper to pull taut around his arms, as he thought about the end of this financial year and the future of the school.

With her back to him, she made the usual verbiage of support. ‘Well, I wish you luck son.’ The absentminded, almost nonchalant remark was one she regularly employed to end the conversation and to show him that she had been listening. In reality, she had not heard 95% of what he had to say, not really acknowledging or digesting the words from her son’s monologue. 

She dried her damp hands on an already moist tea towel, draped over her left shoulder, reached up, and cupped his face briefly. It was a collective gesture of praise and love for her son.

She understood his passion for the school, and his continuous efforts at resourcing funds, but at times, the information was just a diatribe of words. Still, this moment was currently monopolised with more pressing, albeit mundane tasks, and she could not divide her thoughts.

‘I’m going to see, sis,’ said Raito, pushing himself away from the kitchen worktop.

************************

He pushed the door a little harder this time, as it had stiffened from lack of use. He switched on the light on the left hand side of the wall. Everything was exactly how they had left it all those years ago.

It never changed.

A faded blue dappled carpet with a black and blue stripped rectangular throw, grounded the room. Blue drapes, and light blue walls, typical gender specific colours of unwritten societal laws decorated the room.

Dressed bunk beds leaning against the far wall, school photos resting on two low shelves, awards and trophies in the presentation case to the right of the room, and a few ornamental toys, display a childhood he could not at times recall. Or want to.

He loathed coming back to this room. It was like any other spare room in any other house, a haven for clothes and miscellaneous objects of little value, even in its present condition, decorated in history. It was at its best, a museum with the occasional visitor. He strolled around not moving too many objects from their ‘place of rest’, as if trying not to disturb someone else’s private place. This was another world, another time, another person.

As he looked through the window to the dark sky, he remembered their favourite game in the whole world. They would pitch a tent of blankets and sheets, in the middle of the room at night, and pretend they were in the jungle or forest somewhere in the world. They would take it in turns to choose a place and think about the animals and plants that would inhabit the natural environment. The mere suggestion of ‘playing jungle’ was itself an invitation to disagreements, classifying phenotypes and genotypes, was a turbulent method from which to build brotherly love, but it did. Most nights with a torch, hat, rope, and insect repellent. That damned insect repellent.

So innocent and hopeful then, he mused as his eyes sweep across the room once more. 

How life has slain that sentiment.

Raito left to find his sister. 

************************

‘Come in!’

‘Hey, how goes it?’ he said.

Sayu Yagami was an energetic girl, the image of her mother, not as delicate, an almost tomboy quality that would occasionally garner looks of disappointment from her mother or father. She was fourteen years old, six years younger than her brother and almost as tall. 

Raito, for a brief moment watched as she sat at her desk in front of the small window, overlooking the front garden. Her dark brown hair tamed into a ponytail at the base of her neck, secured by a thick black hair band, loosened over the course of the day. Wisps of hair fell around her face, and the traditional grey and blue colours of her uniform, made her look younger than her age.

He closed the door behind him.

Sayu, leaping from her chair, gave Raito a hug. She would never tire of showing her brother affection, even when he would flinch at the contact and tap her on the back, not to reciprocate the act, but ‘tapping out’, indicating for her to, let go.

‘Ok! Ok! Enough!’ He laughed and choked at the same time. Damn how did she get so strong?

‘Guess what? I managed to beat that witch bitch, Misa, in our English assignment,’ she said, while letting go and pulling down the skirt that had risen, when she had reached around her brother’s neck. ‘We had to write an essay in English about an English parliamentary member and their policies and reforms. I chose David Cameron, who became Prime Minister, in May 2010, and leads the first ever Conservative and Liberal Democrat Coalition. Misa, chose the same member, talk about head-to-head competition,’ she edged back over to the chair, ‘anyway, my assignment got top marks, because I used your old homework on a similar question as a guide. Not that I cheated or anything, just compared what I had to your outline notes.’

He always wondered why she insisted on persecuting her own work. She should give herself more credit. She was smart -very smart. Nevertheless, he knew first-hand how the tentacles of self-doubt wormed their way into your conscience, he just never assumed she would suffer the same fate.

He sat down on her bed and they began their customary chatter about school, crushes, and home life. None of the questions would allow for his contribution, but to listen to the answers his sister provided, made for a perfect visit. Raito spoke with his sister until 6 p.m., when his father arrived. 

He greeted all with a kiss, and Raito, with a warm-hearted grasp of his shoulder. 

They settled down to their evening meal and discussed their respective days. 

Raito would usually feel at ease during these evenings, enjoy the talking and the comfort of this home environment: act accordingly. These were not his true feelings, and every once in a while, his displeasure would creep up behind him and dislodge his psyche from its axis.

Tonight, was one of those nights. 

Tonight, Raito thought. 

Why was he here?

************************

He sat quietly evaluating an old closed file. The last slaughter was a mother and her three children: two boys aged seven and five, and a girl, aged just two. All four family members perished under the strikes of his Wakizashi –nihonto- sword.

The entire case was assigned to him, through NPA, which he kept as a mementoes of a world beyond his, and at times, a bitter aftertaste lingered on his conscience like evil that no amount of Holy water could exorcise. He had captured Han Makimi within five days, after receipt of the file and six bodies prior. Hans had reached his demise two days later in ‘suspicious circumstances’ while in custody. 

Was he troubled by his death? No. His job was to gather evidence and find the perpetrator. Once achieved, the working relationship was severed, until reinstated. He had no stake, or consideration for the well-being of anyone beyond that point. Never. He was the last point of call for unsolvable cases that required the application of an unorthodox approach, intelligence, and a moral compass, embedded in the black and white without the complications of the grey. He was their saviour when the world was too dark, and the darkness needed to be controlled. He was their answer when politics weighed heavy on decisions of extradition, and human rights holstered their practices. He was their conscience when they could not turn a blind eye, and ignorance of his means and ways, brought charity to their mind and his finances.

His government affiliations legendary, and inconspicuous, yet tangible enough to merit financial rewards burgeoning on the obscene, giving credence to his importance and reputation. He accepted or rejected cases, judged solely on his merit, and considered parameters and preliminary investigation based not on political or religious beliefs, nor was he bound to any government or country. His loyalty to a cause lay on a knife-edge, balanced between justice and retribution. Clandestine in his work practices, aiming to avert and confuse his growing list of ‘well-wishers’ who would mourn his death with the fervour reserved for a four day Brazilian Carnival. He worked without recourse or regret. That made him both dangerous and always in danger.

His reflective silence was broken, as his third screen situated to the right, notified him of an incoming message with attachments. It automatically scanned for viruses.

It was a large compressed data file from the Kyoto Regional Police, who worked under the jurisdiction of NPA. The file document: Homicide - 1102-453-AT4, official: Detective Kenjin Maui, was a new case, discussed with the NPA half an hour earlier, this was the first of the case file documents.

The file automatically opened, and he clicked through the links and pages. 

Speed-reading the opening details, he pondered the contusive way the body had deformed with atrophy, staring beleaguered from the numerous onscreen prints. 

His figure caste a familiar almost translucent shadow over the large screen, thumb on the underside of his lower lip, barely touching the ridge of his lower lip, feeling the fine hairs in contemplation.

He assimilated some of the key aspects of the report:

...hands: distal, intermediate, and proximal phalange bones, individually crushed.

...feet: phalanges, metatarsals, and the tarsal bones ground, indistinguishable without forensic examination.

...tubular form of the oesophagus non-existent, crushed along with the laryngeal prominence.

...the pinnaulous (auricle): lobule, helix, scapha, triangular fossa and antihelix removed by wrenching appendage.

...faeces and urine, expelled, solidified around the anus, thighs and upper legs.

…central and lateral incisors (four) removed from both the maxilla and mandible.

The combination of neuromuscular blocking agents: Succinylcholine and Atracrim rendered the body immobile and unable to flee.

He looked without blinking at the face of a woman stabbed to death, though he could argue, had perished long before the wound to the heart, as one deep laceration evidenced.

The hollow gouge pulled taught, folding back, exposing the bone and muscle beneath, stared back at him, unflinching and undeniable.


	3. Chapter 2

#  Chapter Two

The interior of his car was as clean as the day of purchase, and still smelled of new leather, creaking with the sound of an un-weathered hide still finding settlement.

He arrived at 7.45 p.m., signed his name in the register, and greeted the night personnel, who remained surprisingly alert during the evening hours. The familiar faces populated the living area meandering languidly, trying to fill the last waking hours of the day at Youkoso Oka Teien Lodgings a selective residential home in Nagano, north bound from Tokyo.

Some of the elderly residents greeted him as a visiting family member, with pleased smiles and soft touches to the hands and face. Once upon a time, he would be unnerved by the characters that resided at the home, giving nothing of his time. But after ten years, they were a disturbing comfort.

The dull corridor, with its muted green carpet, pale green walls, and harsh fluorescent lights, remained unchanged in those years, and he knocked and entered, as he arrived at the familiar door.

Dr Hanoi, a brusque man with greying hair and a surprisingly warm presence, sat at a large desk, wearing the long white overcoat synonymous with the medical and scientific profession.

He rose from his seat as Raito extended his hand in greeting and Dr Hanoi grasped it in reciprocation as he reached across. He was genuinely pleased to see Raito and shook his hand vigorously.

‘Good to see you again, Mr Yagami, how have you been?’

‘Very well thank you, and you?’

Dr Hanoi handed the cumbersome item to him. ‘Everything is going well. I received the ‘Health and Care certificate of Excellence’ this morning, they spared no expense on the frame.’ 

He nodded and passed the plaque back, and Dr Hanoi settled into the chair. ‘How did you both enjoy the Jidai Matsuri Festival in Kyoto?’

‘It was worth the smile on his face,’ he said, reflecting on the day.

They had spent time in Kyoto just over a week ago, in a plush hotel enjoying the festivities of the Jidai Matsuri festival known as ‘Festival of the Age’, an event that dated back as early as 1865. A tradition where a procession of people in traditional costume, representing different people throughout Kyoto’s history, would partake in a five hour walk to the Old Imperial Palace, and then on to the Heian Shrine of recognition and transition. The procession, accompanied by music and small bands, was a mesh of colour and sound. 

‘Did you stay for the entire festival?’ Dr Hanoi asked as he reached for the pile of folders that occupied a tray on his desk.

‘Reiki, wouldn’t have it any other way, and though we specifically went for the 22nd October, we stayed for a further four days.’ He allowed a few moments to pass before continuing. ‘This meeting will need to suffice for the next few weeks as year end funds need to be re-allocated.’ 

With that the dynamic of the situation changed to one of a familiar status quo. 

An hour later, he exited Dr Hanoi’s office and ventured down an adjacent corridor to a more secluded section of the building.

His feet made a soft, almost inaudible padding, as he reached the large door. He knocked lightly, then entered into a room that was large and well furnished, with one large bay window with seating nestled beneath, facing the well maintained back garden. 

The room was in darkness, as the sun had set at around 4.45 p.m., with its deep purple and blue rolling clouds, but now, only the radiance beckoned the eyes from the ribbon of moonlight that dusted the room in metallic silver.

He quietly closed the door behind him, placing his briefcase on the floor, and walking over to a young man seated in a chair at the far end of the room.

Though seated, he was tall, but his slouch had minimised his frame. His form, twisted, settled at a slight angle in the leather-upholstered wheelchair. He was well groomed; his black hair coiffed into place, a suggestion of aftershave, and eyes that reflected the sparkle of the skyline, as he gazed through the window towards the dark of the evening sky. 

He paused for a moment to join him in reverence of the natural scenery, watching the swaying movements of the trees, listening to the faint commotion as the branches struck and bustled against one another, the shadows reflected on their skin like moving images of darkness.

He finally turned away, collected his case from the floor, and removed numerous financial papers and reports. He sat down in the sofa and rested his hand on the angled knee to his side.

This was always the hardest part after they had not seen each other for a few days, the distant yearning look, the isolation, and the reluctance to talk to anyone until his return.

It would be different soon.

The hand reached out and touched Raito’s face. ‘Good evening...Ito.’ He strained.

‘Good evening, brother.’

Raito turned on the lamp that sat on the small side table, turning the window black. 

They worked through the detailed reports, only stopping to eat the cooked meal his mother had given him to take home.

************************

He had worked on the murder case for just over four hours, receiving numerous case files of similar deaths. His method of data capture was a cascading process, local, international, and then global. The local search in Tokyo, yielded one possible victim, however the details were vague. Kanto in 2015, there were two possible victims. Nagano, Shizuoka, Chiba, thirteen possible victims over the between 2015 and 2019. In England a possibilities with four mutilated bodies; and the final known victim found in Kyoto. 

The pattern of death was consistent. Each was similar in the aggression towards the body, but more consistently to the legs and arms and the administration of Succinylcholine and Atracrim. The victims were known to be cohabiting with children.

They had a serial killer.

He filed them all under one reference. Akuma

************************

Raito arrived at his apartment in a gated community, a well-maintained complex in Chuo. Forty-five minutes from his parents’ home in Shinjuku and just over an hour from his brother in Nagano. It was a large apartment, sparsely furnished but dressed in the essentials. He entered the study, docked his phone and Avro Part’s Spiegel im Spiegel drifted into the room.

Hours passed, firewalls breached, unpublished company information revealed. It may not have been the most ethical method of data capture, but it was a means to an end: to ensure the continued funding of the school. A moralistic endeavour one could argue. He never ‘stole’ information, merely reviewed for possible donors.

It had been a productive night.

************************

It was 11:45 p.m., a late night for Yagami Soichiro, as he reluctantly returned to the team back at The NPA department after dinner with his family. His duties dictated his priorities, so he found himself in the large investigation room.

In the last five hours, the request for information tripled in urgency, and required communication to overseas organisations on a global scale. The initial information was not forthcoming, but with the added gravitas of the presence of an external body, it began to trickle through. 

************************

At 6 a.m., he was in receipt of a compressed file from Akita Regional Police. There had been another four murders: Katsuo Hantori, Chion Lontai, Akaito Matuon, and Ukon Munsauri. Each victim worked for the organisation RHR Financial Limited, a subsidiary of the REKG Group, bringing the total number of possible deaths to eighteen. 

The large room was airy and vacant, but for the lone form, whose rhythmical tapping saw fingertips moving swiftly across the keyboard. 

His eyes finally moved from the screen, to beyond the transparent boundaries of the window, to the dawn skyline of Tokyo. 

Blinking, he returned to typing.

Moments later, he dismounted from his seat, and headed towards the door.

The screen, automatically shutting down after 20 seconds, darkened to an emblazoned L.

Now we begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Youkoso Oka Teien (Welcome Hill Garden)
> 
> * Akuma (Demon)


	4. Chapter 3

#  Chapter Three 

He reached the front desk where a young man sat watching multiple CCTV screens. ‘Good afternoon, can you inform Chief Yagami that his son is here, thank you.’ 

The clerk nodded without taking his eyes from the screen; reaching over with practised ease, he grabbed the phone and punched in a number without looking at the pad, and after a few moments the clerk put down the phone and gave him a pass.

‘Chief said to meet him in his office.’

It was Sunday, three days since he had spoken to his father. A visit at work would allow him to explain his intentions of leaving Japan. He had applied for several teaching and lecturing roles in England and succeeded in passing several first stage of interviews. One video conference interview that was scheduled for tomorrow, at 1 p.m., for a boarding school in Winchester, England, looked promising.

He continued the climb with definitive strides to the fourth floor, where his father’s office was situated towards the rear. He walked past the small investigation room, only to stop, and take a step back. There his father stood, looking at a board, in a room that was paper strewn.

He approached his father who stood with a confident stance that the years did nothing to diminish. The black rimmed spectacles that often rested halfway down his face, did not detract from his penetrative dark eyes. He stood silent, aligning with his father’s stare as he took in the information also.

Yagami Soichiro had lived a life under the constant shadow of the law, in the form of a dominant father, who believed in justice and order, and worked his way through the ranks from a beat officer. He was well known and highly praised for his commitment and contribution, with several commendations and awards for acts of bravery and dedication to the community. Soichiro had followed eagerly in his father’s footsteps. His values were just as strong if not more so than his father’s. He believed that individuals in the community should do their best to work for society as a whole. Yagami Soichiro’s father passed in 2015.

Raito fractured the silence. ‘How are things?’ 

‘Fine, son. Sorry I couldn’t meet you downstairs. Have you eaten?’ Soichiro turned to face his son. He looked well.

‘No, but I brought lunch.’

He held up his father’s favourite bento box meal, as he moved to the nearest table and pushed a few papers aside.

Appreciating the potent smells that quickly permeated the stuffy atmosphere with ginger and soy, he opened one of the containers laid out for him and delved in.

While eating, Raito glanced towards the board, and caught by one of the photos, he left his food to move closer. Reading the information about each victim: visually tagged and labelled one to fourteen, with four more pinned in the corner, but placed strategically around a map in the centre, he wondered what kind of monster existed to destroy lives so effectively, yet the thirst for more didn’t seem quenched with each life lost.

Soichiro watched his son, while pushing a stray grain of rice from the corner of his mouth, into the dark opening. ‘I know that face, what is it?’

Raito was deep in thought. A crease appearing in the centre of his forehead created a minor imperfection on his features. With his hands digging deep into his jean pockets to stop himself from reaching for a pen, he turned to his father.

‘Where were the children?’

‘What?’ said Soichiro, pushing the glasses back up his nose with the knuckle of his finger, avoiding the rice and oil that clung to the tip.

He pointed. ‘The first victim had two children, both in care at the time. The information on the board doesn’t fully specify the other’s whereabouts?’ 

Soichiro picked up several thin napkins and wiped his mouth and chin, ridding his face of any remnants of a good Sanshoku Soboro Donburi. His mind returning to early discussions with the team, jogged his latent memory.

‘We know that the children weren’t at home, considered the killer has a conscience in some form or another, in the absence of anything concrete.’ 

‘Maybe,’ he mused and stepped in closer. Whoever did this, may have understood that crying children ended up dead, and sometimes, sleeping children never woke up. ‘However...’

************************

From a warm room, he watched.

He appreciated the swift assimilation with the briefest of induction, yet, the almost imperceptible terseness in his voice did nothing to mask his frustration in discussing the details with his father. Even now, he was laymen in his explanation, but there harboured a reluctance to cross an invisible threshold. 

Still, his name stood before him in notoriety.

His eyes held an almost watery clearness, as he magnified the screen. A shade, not unlike the Appias Nero butterfly, as the mottled flecks of orange and sepia catch the dim light of the afternoon sun.

His own acute observations prove disconcerting even to him at times. It was a gift he couldn't always control.

‘Look at this file,’ he said, as he reached over to the case for victim number two, ‘I know I haven’t reviewed all the files, but I think more details on the children would be wise,’ he suddenly paused, then with a rush flicked through the document, speed-reading the information as he went, ‘here look,’ he said, as he pulled the sheet from the pile.

He continued to grapple with the contents in one palm, while leafing with the other, the sheets of loose paper shifting dangerously; threatening to leave the safety of the folder for the floor.

Soichiro picked up another file and scanned the document. He glanced up. ‘Victim number six, two children, both children in care.’

Raito picked up another file, victim number nine. ‘One child, staying with relatives, and victim number three…,’ he mumbled to himself as he retrieved the file, ‘passed away in June of last year.

Too much of a coincidence?’ he questioned, staring into the eyes of his father. ‘More importantly, when did they leave the care of the immediate family? Who authorised their removal? How old are the children? Were they removed before the incident or after? Did the children note anything suspicious before they left? Is there any history of family problems?’ He put down the file in frustration. More so at himself for asking. ‘Could be something?’

He looked at his son. ‘Possibly.’

There was silence.

Soichiro relished the familiar feeling he missed when working with his son. Raito, wishing he had not let his unguarded mind drift on the familiar rush of an unsolved case, and had focused instead, on talking to his father about leaving.

‘Leads, nonetheless. Thank you, they may help.’ A few moments passed. ‘Like old times.’

He stepped uncomfortably to the side. It was time for him to leave.

‘I’ll see you Tuesday.’

He ignored the wistful statement. He would not venture down this path. It had been a hard and deeply regrettable experience.

Soichiro was disappointed. ‘Son, was there anything else you wanted? You said you wanted to talk about something. Was it important? We can talk now?’

He didn’t want his son to leave. He very rarely visited, and when he did, it was brief. This was the first time, in a long time, they had spent time together. Alone.

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Raito. His father’s need to dredge up old times had poured cold water on his plans. This was not the right time to discuss leaving when his father was lost to rose tinted memories. 

On leaving, he noticed a laptop that sat at the front of the room. It was not, by any means, the standard NPA, where his father had been working since the start of the case, issued piece of equipment. A simple deduction based on prior knowledge of him working with many National and Domestic Intelligent agencies and the police, the affiliations over the years, which he could recall were Naikaku Joho Chosasitu in Japan, FBI and CIA in America, MI5 in England, to name but a meagre few, thus for a case such as this, it was inevitable.

This was L.

Nodding once to his father, he left.

‘Your son is very bright, Chief Yagami.’ The synthesised voice cracked from the far end of the room as the moments echo the separation between them.

‘Exceptional,’ he answered, as he collected the empty containers that had held the sustenance that would allow him to work for another four or five hours, before he sought replenishment at the poorly stocked vending machine.

‘The same conclusion was drawn several days ago. Investigations are underway.’

He cocked his left eyebrow. Though he felt irritated by the swift demands and lesser forthcomings, he didn’t want to confront L on this omission. It would be pointless.

‘Are there any other leads you are currently working on?’ Soichiro queried instead.

‘The breaches of operating systems using a remote server, nothing was compromised, but detailed financial files were unlocked.’

He continued to remove the empty containers.

‘You have a daughter, correct?’

‘Yes, she’s in high school.’

There was a momentary pause. ‘You had another son, I believe.’

‘Yes,’ said Soichiro, with a melancholic tone, ‘he died nearly ten years ago, car crash. His name was Chou-Nan, he was Raito’s twin brother.’


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raito and Ryuuzaki meet for the first time. Their encounter provides the key elements of the story going forward.  
> I have also taken liberties with computer programming language. Great liberties. :-)  
> All mistakes are mine, but I'm riding the wave of writing pleasure for it to matter too much.

#  Chapter Four 

Driving to Youkoso Oka Teien; taking the Chuo Expressway to the Okaya J.C.T then heading towards Nagano, he decided was a better way to end the day. 

They both sat full and content on a knot riddled bench in the garden of the premises, with Chou-Nan still holding onto his tsujiura senbei. He tightened the grey blanket around his brother’s shoulders, as the leaves moved haphazardly, caught in a nearby vortex, scurrying around their feet. Chou-Nan was looking better since the trip to Kyoto, but he needed to keep warm. He had endured two colds in the last few months, and he could not physically afford another.

Giving him a light squeeze, Raito rested his head on the lean shoulder and continued to watch the afternoon sky. Although this would negate his familiar demeanour, it was commonplace when he was in the privacy of the lodge, and in the company of his brother.

‘We are...due another...holiday.’

‘Really? We are?’

Even though they had recently returned from Kyoto, Raito understood the need to get away from the restrictive walls of the room.

‘Yes, and... you are looking...tired.’

‘I have two more organisations I want to consider before the end of the year.’

‘Do not...leave...breadcrumbs,’ his brother breathed. ‘You need to... keep safe...we have to ...be careful.’

‘I know. So, how many holidays have we had this year?’

‘Only...six,’

‘ _Only_ six,’ he said with incredulity.

‘You...spoil me and I... love it.’

************************

The light from the apartment building was bright enough for him to notice an idling black Mercedes E-Class parked just outside the complex. He punched in the security code and the gates opened at a crawl. He was winded slightly, having made short work of the stairs, and wiping his feet on the mat, he entered, leaving his shoes by the door.

Hanging up his coat and heading to the living room, he had every intention of drowning out the silence of the apartment, and sought the sombre ambiance of ‘Miserere Mei, Deus. 

On his way to the kitchen, he paused and strained to confirm or deny the sound that was a rare occurrence at his home.

There was another one, this time, far more obtrusive.

‘Who is it?’ He called now a foot away from the door.

‘I would like to speak with, Yagami Raito.’ It was a soft undemanding voice.

‘And you are?’

‘I work with your father. I’m an associate of the NPA.’

He gave an audible sigh and rested the back of his head against the wall. It was not a challenge to deduce the conversation that had taken place. He only thought it would have taken at least a day.

‘And your name?’ He finally asked.

‘Ryuuzaki.’

He walked away from the door grabbing his phone. His father answered on the first ring.

‘There is a person outside my apartment door requesting to speak with me. He said he has affiliations with the NPA. Do you know anything about this?’

‘Yes, he’s Ryuuzaki. He works for L and-’

‘Thank you,’ he said, and disconnected the line.

A gated residence, in an affluent area. He wondered how a ‘Fundraiser’, just shy of university, afforded such accommodation. He could hear the choral voices of Miserere Mei, Deus through the closed door, as it reached the airy heights of climax. Only one who understands the infliction of the piece, would seek its comfort when alone by drowning one sorrow with the musical interval of another.

Moments later he was staring at Yagami Soichiro’s son.

‘Come in,’ Raito said, hiding his surprise at the associate, who wore a double breasted grey trench coat, with the belt hanging listlessly on either side of his frame. However, the outfit became decided enigmatic further south, as laces flapped dangerously with each step.

‘Your coat.’

Ryuuzaki looked confused.

‘Your coat. Can I take your coat?’

He passed over the heavy item, revealing a plain white long sleeved top, creased beyond recognition of the original design, and two sizes too big. Raito pondered the credibility of the associate, more so when he couldn’t help but watch Ryuuzaki’s bare toes dig into the soft knotted carpet as he placed his outdoor trainers near the door also.

The deep hue of the walls reflected off Ryuuzaki’s jumper, giving him a crimson glow walking through the corridor, decorated with several paintings, artefacts and childhood photos.

He made his way to the high stool, offered by his now more amiable host, and sat with his toes curled around the bar of the steel footrest.

The kitchen was all straight lines and starkness. The only object allowed to disrupt the flow, was a lone fruit bowl that held several red apples. He rested his hands on his thighs and rubbed gently creating friction to aid the generation of heat. It had been a chilly night, and the walk from the car to the apartment had caught him off guard.

Raito opened the cupboard door and removed the kettle and spoke with his back to Ryuuzaki. ‘I see you managed to acquire the code for both the front gate and the building.’

He continued to rub his hand against his legs, understanding the statement and responding accordingly. 

He said nothing.

‘What’s so important that, L has to authorise a home-visit by one of his operatives? It was L, I’m assuming,’ he queried, as he placed water in an old English style kettle, with a whistle top. 

Raito reached inside the cupboards and drew out two white cups and saucers. Then from a side drawer retrieved two napkins, spoons, and small plates, along with two place mats and one large fire retardant mat. 

‘I have tea, also coffee, or if you prefer something cold?’

‘Tea, will be fine.’

They both sat in silence as the kettle boiled, and Ryuuzaki watched as Raito busied himself almost oblivious to his presence, assembling the crockery and cutlery. The handle of the cup turned to the right, and the spoon placed just so, under the handle of the cup, on the saucer. It was an exercise in control.

A large red tin with white dots, was removed from the second shelf and the insides clunked. Ryuuzaki knew that sound very well, and when the lid was removed, the air was assaulted by a heady mix of lemon and vanilla. 

Raito placed one on the side of his saucer and pushed the tin towards Ryuuzaki.

The tempo of the music changed, and Bach almost cleared the scene with a deep metaphoric cough, as the bow drew against the string and introduced itself through the tenuous first bars. Bach had a way of never apologising for his moods.

It was time to talk.

‘L was impressed by your work today, Yagami-kun, and the notoriety that you gained having served the NPA also has led him to invite you to join us on this case.’ Ryuuzaki’s voice echoed slightly, as he peered into the biscuit barrel and shook it slightly, the innards shifting. He wondered if these were the only biscuits in the deep container.

‘He would also like to donate a considerable sum to your school.’ At that declaration, he raised his head and studied his host, with dark eyes made harlequin, gauging his reaction to the affront. ‘He is very wealthy.’ He stated. The icing on the insolent cake.

The kettle whistled, and he watched as Raito removed it from the hob and placed it on the heat resistant mat that had appeared in the centre of the table. After pouring the steaming liquid into each cup, that held the teabags, he placed a small container of sugar and milk in front of his guest before returning his gaze. 

‘Would he donate to the school if I refuse?’

‘The offer is inconsequential,’ said Ryuuzaki, as he watched Raito remove each tea bag, by spooning the bag out of the cup, and then winding the string around the bag and spoon exactly three times, creating a small amount of pressure, wringing the last of the flavour from the tea bag. Precision and control.

He passed a cup to Ryuuzaki who added two heaped teaspoons. ‘He would not have made the offer, if he didn’t believe the donation would be leverage. Therefore, he is aware that achieving funding for the school is important enough that it might sway my decision.’

Raito was beginning to believe that L wasn’t as shrewd as everyone suspected, if he was making these clumsy attempts at manipulation. 

‘Would you prefer him to pay you for your services, Yagami-kun?’ Ryuuzaki said before removing one biscuit. ‘have you clock in and out at the office?’

The glaze and pastry stuck to his thumb and index finger. He took a tentative bite and his trepidation was short lived, as the amalgamated flavours thrilled his taste buds. He shoved the whole biscuit into his mouth and chewed with appreciation.

‘Is this the standard of L’s acumen-a poorly contrived insult?’

‘Where did you purchase these biscuits, Yagami-kun?’ he asked in place of an answer.

Raito stood up and walked to the counter, taking his time to sip his tea. ‘England.’

‘Where in England did you visit, Yagami-kun?’

He sighed. ‘I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about holidays. Was there anything else?’

‘I noticed the traditional soldier print, and the wall hanging?’ He dipped the biscuit into the already sweetened tea and slurped the soggy part into his already full mouth. ‘Did you go to the Jidai Matsuri Festival?’ 

Another biscuit followed the first, but this time a small piece could not hold on, broke free, and slipped ungracefully into his teacup. Raito watched as Ryuuzaki spared no time using the spoon to fish it out succeeding in scraping a significant amount of undissolved sugar from the bottom onto his spoon as consolation. 

Then he spotted it. ‘You’re not a native of Japan?’

Ryuuzaki sipped his tea. ‘No.’

That was all the answer he was prepared to give.

The room fell silent. 

‘Please tell L no, and I will speak with my father in the morning.’

His eyes met Raito’s and they stared for a moment. 

‘I will let L know your decision. May I?’ Ryuuzaki gestured to the biscuit tin.

Raito nodded. He had eight packets in the top left hand cupboard.

He watched as the midnight limousine slid away, then logged on, and sent a message to Chou-Nan.

The message, an encrypted code, was a program created by them both. The encryption itself updated periodically by an imbedded process that both removes and adds successive variables (letters and numbers) every twenty-four hours, based on the recursive categorical (algebraic) syntax, using English and Kanji, using a translational polygraphic substitution cipher, from the esoteric programming language, Malboge. 

In non-technical language, it was indecipherable.

Deciphering the message requires an inverse substitution program, the same type of code he used when searching for secure financial information on servers. 


	6. Chapter 5

#  Chapter Five 

The dull lights reflected off the limousine, as it pulled into the underground parking lot at the Gekkani hotel.

The vibration in his coat pocket alerted him to the call. 

‘72 hours of virtual trekking across the globe is not my idea of fun, but hell, Cyber Jacker’s program is smoking hot, gave me a run for my money and all that, but I’m still the number one hacker in the world.’

‘Yeah, whatever you say phlegm boy.’ Came a mumbled response from the second speaker through the headset. 

‘So, you want the good news or the great news?’ He continued.

The silence was foreboding.

‘Cool, good news it is, we found the source. Great news is, we’re five minutes away,’ he said, keeping his eyes fixed on a hostile turn, as he navigated the unfriendly road leading to Chiyoda.

‘Call when secured,’ was the curt reply and the call ended.

‘Geez, he’s in a nasty mood.’

‘As opposed to what other mood?’ The driver on the line scoffed, as his midnight blue Subaru WRX STi turned into a particularly foul bend.

************************

He wiped away the steam that had accumulated on the mirror. He stared for a moment at the reality that was his body. 

Moving his head in various positions, his reflection revealed his heavy eyes, washed out pallor, and a faint growth.

Shaving was not a regular occurrence, and unlike his father, with dark hair and a substantial shadow by early afternoon even having shaved that morning, shaving was a fortnightly event at best. His other genetic anomalies that differentiated him from his family, like his eye colour, his mother had attributed it to a ‘throwback’ from her side of the family.

The discarded towel rested by the open tub of ointment, as he massaged its contents into his skin. 

The ridges created by keloid and hypertrophic scarring had smoothed over time, but he could still feel them over his body. His recuperation was lengthy, but keeping his skin supple as a matter of course, had established his daily routine.

A cacophony of beeping from his devices, alerted him to the breach in his security system, and there was no time lost between the bathroom, logging on and assessing the infringement.

His eyes darted between the two screens as he feverishly typed. The algorithm created from the encryption process was impenetrable, but chances shouldn’t be taken, even great hackers _can_ be hacked.

************************

It was 7p.m., and the Subaru arrived with two escorting cars outside the gated apartment complex.

They punched in the security code, and three groups of two could be seen dispersing, as they neared the side of the building: one towards the back of the building, the other a fire escape, the third direct to the apartment. 

‘Matt, talk to me!’ He requested running towards the building.

‘Tannerman Apartment 207, first floor, still receiving signal.’ 

‘Got it!’

From inside the apartment the knock echoed.

************************

‘Clever.’

He sat back in his chair, realised his lack of attire, and headed to the bedroom.

************************

‘Hello?’ The soft voice struggled from the other side of the door.

‘Police. Open up!’

A small thin woman stood by the open door, after several moments.

‘Can I help you?’ She asked the man who had both width and height and was eclipsing another behind him.

Agitated, he was not in the mood for niceties. ‘Are you the owner of this apartment, ma’am?’ He said, as he drew his identification from his leather coat pocket and pushed it into her line of vision. Just above his belt buckle.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Your name, ma’am?’

‘Mrs Saiko.’

‘Is there anyone else living with you, ma’am?’

She was unsure how to answer. If she said she was alone, it may prove dangerous for an elderly woman in her situation. If she said she was waiting for someone they may have the gall to wait. She was in a quandary. Maybe she could call someone, a neighbour. But they rarely spoke to each other.

She drew in a tiny breath. ‘No, I live on my own.’

‘Do you own a computer or a laptop, ma’am,’ he said, pushing the door a little wider.

‘Yes, I have a computer in my backroom, but I have no use for it, my granddaughter uses it sometimes.’

He stepped forward filling the doorway. ‘Can we have a look, ma’am?’

‘What’s this all about?’ she asked as goose bumps crept up her spine. 

‘We’re not at liberty to say at this time ma’am, but we appreciate your co-operation if you could show us where.’

Adding very little force, he easily pushed his way inside. 

They followed her through the well maintained apartment to a small back room where a PC sat. The monitor was off, but the hard drive hummed away. 

He clicked the mouse and the screen came alive with thousands of butterflies. Suddenly both men grabbed their headsets pulling them off. The ‘death cry’ of the motherboard, detectable by high frequency devices, had been piercing.

‘Thank you for your time, ma’am.’

They both retreated back through the apartment and seethed all the way down to the ground floor.

‘Well, Matt, guess the position for second best ‘Phlegm boy’ is still yours,’ he said while leaving the building. Glancing at the large man next to him, who seemed particularly aggrieved at the outcome.

A voice growled into the earpiece. ‘They circumvented the system. Now we have signals coming from every single fucking apartment building in the Eastern hemisphere. What the hell, man!’ The remote detection device flashed like a Christmas tree. ‘Wipe the CCTV, we’re done.’


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of Child abuse, but no graphic depictions.

#  Chapter Six 

He sniffed and repositioned the scarf as dark crisp leaves crunched underfoot. Entering the building, he received his pass from the front desk and headed towards his father’s office. 

He spotted his father en route. ‘Have you spoken to Ryuuzaki?’ he asked, grabbing his father’s attention as soon as he entered the already full investigation room.

His brow creased slightly in uncertainty. ‘No. Why?’

‘Well, I wanted to...’

An officer approached his father and whispered in his ear.

‘Son, I’ll be back in a minute. Can we talk then?’ 

All he could do was nod.

After stopping briefly at the coffee machine, he sat sipping on the molasses coloured liquid in the farthest corner of the room. The laptop faced the centre of the room, and the seating was angled towards it. A few moments later, the projector came to life, and a cloistered black letter L, flickered into existence.

‘The four victims from RHR Limited were found in their respective homes. Yagami-kun, you are not privy to this information, please see the file that the NPA has prepared for you.’

Heart hitching several hundred beats per minute, he sat staring at the folder offered to him by a team member. Had Ryuuzaki passed on the message? Or did he choose to ignore his refusal. If so, refusing at this moment would garner both confusion and disapproval. It would cause his father embarrassment, especially now that the case was gaining traction in the news. Maybe L chose to ignore his answer? Did anyone say ‘no _’_ to L?

‘Is there something wrong, Yagami-kun?’

He would wait until he spoke with his father. ‘Thank you,’ he said, eventually taking the file for the officer.

As the briefing continued, he flicked through the heavy file. Details of the security system breach of RHR Limited, caught his eye.

‘Do you have any leads on the system security breach?’ he asked. Not caring about the sudden interruption to L’s monologue.

The room was quiet for a moment.

‘The intruder created a highly complex program. Like watching contrails that seem to disappear after a short time. However, we recovered a computer from an elderly woman who lives in Chiyoda.’

‘How did you find an elderly woman with a computer? That’s incredibly...random,’ he continued.

‘Applying Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle and using probability programs based on regression analysis, we were able to deduce where they would be most visible, but not when. The probability of their whereabouts significantly increased last night, when we had a viable lead.’

‘And the computer?’

‘A result yielded from the sting.’

A furrow appeared over his eyes.

The voice modulator cracked slightly as the tone adjusted. ‘Cyber Jacker or Jackers, is the name created in the absence of an identity for the individual or group, who have managed to hack into the RHR victim’s computer system. They managed to create an algorithm duplicating successive syntax with a numerical translational shift, and with the use of one of the most complicated programming languages known, the source is practically untraceable.’

Clarity of thought suddenly hit him like a sledge-hammer.

‘What do you mean by practically?’ he asked. 

Beads of sweat had formed around his hairline. At the time, he was unsure who had successfully unlocked his peripheral code, figured it was just hackers looking for a thrill. However, someone was actively looking for a trail, and they had stumbled upon a breadcrumb - his breadcrumb.

‘Though wonderfully complex, there are flaws, which will be exploited. Nothing is perfect, Yagami-kun,’ said L.

The probability of cracking his code was impossible... _practically_ impossible.

‘You sound, impressed,’ said Soichiro. He rubbed the corner of his eye as he stifled a yawn and rubbed the dried lacrimal fluid against a trouser leg that had lost its pleat the day before. ‘Are they going to be our main suspect?’

‘The PC’s and laptops had similar intrusions,’ L said.

‘How many of them had similar intrusions?’ Raito asked.

Yes, he had written numerous reports on the organisation he had reviewed over the years and he was able to count three from the current case. But this could be a coincidence. Right?

The microphone cracked. ‘All of them.’ 

Raito grabbed the file before it hit the floor.

‘Well, finally a breakthrough,’ said Soichiro.

‘Even the four victims that worked for RHR?’ One of the team members ventured.

‘A good question. Which brings me onto our next points. The deaths of the last four were a change from the usual M.O. And had only proved to raise further questions. Apart from working in the Limited company, there are other connections between the four. Chief Yagami, the file I asked you to refrain from opening until we were all present, please can you circulate to the group.’

Soichiro had returned and CDs, Tapes, several loose papers and hundreds of photos toppled from the large envelope he upended onto the table. 

The hush in the room was ominous, as items were passed around. Soichiro rubbed his chin and was slow to pass them on to Raito, as bile roiled in his empty stomach.

‘Paedophile ring,’ said L.

Raito’s mind unconsciously started working the case. ‘What about the other children of the victims?’

‘From what we have so far, eight of the children were put into care because of physical or sexual abuse. We are still waiting on details from child services, case files and police records.’

‘A retribution killing?’ Raito muttered.

‘A psychological profile is being constructed as we speak, Yagami-kun.’

The group continued for a further hour, with many questions directed at L. The one question that was more disquieting than the others posed, was it justified? 

‘Your help has been well received, Yagami-kun.’ The tinny modulated voice asserted, when the room had emptied and actions assigned.

‘I was happy to help.’

‘Was?’

‘Unfortunately, due to other commitments...’

‘Your conference this afternoon, correct?’ L interjected.

Raito’s eye twitched. ‘Correct. But as I explained to Ryuuzaki yesterday, I will not be able to assist in this case.’

There was a lull in conversation.

‘We appreciate your return for the review this afternoon.’

There it was, the definitive innocuous relinquishing of self for the betterment of the whole served on a bed of L. 

His nose flared and his face flushed slightly. He headed to the coffee machine. One bitter taste to cover the current bitter taste in his mouth. He would talk with is father this afternoon.

When everyone had returned, the final debrief lasted a few minutes. ‘Everyone, please ponder on what we have so far and, Chief Yagami, please can you organise a private call with my associate as soon as possible.’

Raito moved before the red light had died and left the NPA building without speaking to his father.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update: Slight change. In chapter 5 (granddaughter uses the computer).  
> Warning: GRAPHIC description of mutilated bodies- Please be warned this chapter is not for the faint of heart.

#  Chapter Seven 

He reached the corner of the building as the sweat started to cool down his back. His heart, with its incessant hammering, wouldn’t allow him to organise his thoughts. He needed to regroup, rethink, reinforce his firewall and retrace his steps. He needed to rid his mind of those photos. The marred flesh, globules of burgundy congealed on the small bodies, the vacant eyes. He needed time. He needed to breathe.

A coffee shop a block away, found him sitting at a table. A coffee, now cold, remained untouched. His eyes, focused on the financial section of the paper, were glazed over in thought. He hadn’t realised that the ‘elderly lady’, who became embroiled in their investigation, had received one of sixty five computers and laptops pooled for the community drive, almost five years ago. The project urged local businesses to provide at least one computer or laptop for underprivileged children. He had worked alongside a number of institutions and technical teams, wiping and reinstalling new applications and upgrading operating systems. He had added several programs to fifteen of them prior to allocation. These acted as a vehicle to _bounce_ his program from place to place within the ether. 

Could they trace them back to him? Yes and no. Yes, he was part of the community project, and he helped with organising some events at his school. But also, no, as the computers were donations from different organisations, and no one specific. They had a list of donors they acknowledged on their website thanking them for their contributions. So, they couldn’t pin-point them specifically to him. 

Nonetheless, his program was like a spectre, it disappeared soon after making an appearance. A ‘contrail’, L had analogised. It was impenetrable, he was positive. Still, his activities had inadvertently provided this case with a lead, a lead they were going to ‘exploit’, but they would reach a dead end, he was confident of that.

He regained his focus on the financials, sat up straighter and drank the cold coffee. He had an interview he needed to attend. He packed his belongings, and with a surety of stride, headed to the train station. The attendant returned his smile as he walked through the turnstile and headed to the platform. 

As the train pulled out, ‘Nothing is perfect’ began to scratch at his consciousness.

************************

At 2.15 p.m., he walked into the lobby of the NPA building. His video conference went well considering his minor unrest earlier, and he was more keen than ever to commit himself to the role of lecturer in a boarding school for ‘special children’ in Winchester.

The desk clerk handed him his nametag after he signed in. ‘Sir, the Chief asked if you could give him a call when you arrive.’

He stood near the tall window in the lobby. ‘Yes... How long? …Alright.’

His father arrived some ten minutes later. They had moved the investigation to another floor, and they walked down an unfamiliar corridor with two other officers talking quietly behind them. 

‘You look very smart, son,’ he said.

Raito’s smile was fleeting. ‘Thank you.’

’How was your meeting?’ Soichiro asked, trying to disrupt the disquiet between them. 

‘It went well. Better than expected.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Sure, son,’ said Soichiro, as they approached a large open door.

Several large areas were cornered off, with a bank of computers stationed towards the back of the room. 

‘Yagami kun,’ Ryuuzaki said as he approached him. ‘Thank you again for the tea last night. It was pleasant.’

He did not recall expressing sentiments of gratitude last night. It was a contentious oversight on his part. Customary practices, involving social niceties, he tended to ignore. He would not ingratiate himself into the frivolities of a fickle society. However, the meeting yielded interesting variables not considered before.

‘You’re welcome,’ Raito said offhandedly.

‘I will be hosting the meeting this afternoon. L has been called away on a more pressing engagement,’ he continued. 

Raito, seemingly preoccupied with other thoughts, no longer paid him attention.

He then turned and walked to the far side of the room to address the team.

‘We will continue where we left off this morning. Several operatives are working with child services, and our technical team will be sending updates of recordings shortly. Yagami-kun, please join me.’

The slightest drop of his shoulders could be seen at the request, but the stoic look remained.

Throughout the afternoon they worked together in silence, occasionally venturing into conversations when the need arose.

‘We are both in accord that the attack on the four latest victims, seemed frenzied, and lacked the pace or coordination found with the others,’ said Ryuuzaki, returning from a phone call he excused himself to take. 

The fluorescent light overhead reflected on the photos scattered across the table, creating a glare from the glossy prints. Yet, it was not enough to block the snapshots of the mouths stuffed with genitalia, which the report concluded, had been severed with a serrated knife. ‘Like a beef cutlet’, one of the officers had stated with a pained expression.

‘We know the children were abused in a specific way.’ Raito took out the file for victim 6 and showed it to Ryuuzaki. ‘Her body was subjected to extensive torture, but, her two children were in care at the time of the murder and have been for several weeks. However, before 2019, she had three children, one of which was a son. He died when he accidentally fell down a flight of stairs. A coincidence? From the autopsy report he had several abrasions that didn't correlate with a fall down the stairs.’ Raito’s colour peaked slightly before he swiftly flipped over the photo of victim 6.

Ryuuzaki rocked on his haunches as he continued to crouch by the open files on the floor. But he was acutely aware of the behaviour of Raito, like opting to by-pass the more graphic boards, and taking the longer route to the coffee machine. Or as he had done now, avoiding the photos of the victims and the more horrifying ones of tortured children.

‘But, would you call it torture when the victims were plied with analgesics, Yagami-kun?’

‘Yes. I would. The torture is knowing that parts of you are being amputated. However, your mind is unable to construct a type of reality around it. It’s dissociative. That’s why each of the four victims of RHR had been positioned in front of a mirror. The mirror reflects the reality-the truth. Yet you can't reconcile it with the lack of pain, but you can see and feel the tugs as someone is...is hacking at a part of your body. But the reality is, it's a waking nightmare.’

Ryuuzaki watched as Raito’s eyes flickered to the door again. His father hadn’t returned for over an hour. Was there something he wanted to discuss with his father. His interview? Leaving the case?

‘I don’t think the hackers are involved in the murders somehow? I mean, it doesn’t add up?’ he continued. Then sighed, when an officer appeared at the door, and he had yet to see his father.

He turned to face him. ‘What doesn’t add up?’

‘Maybe it was simply, wrong place wrong time. Looking for financial information in large organisations is not unheard of.’

Ryuuzaki stared. ‘What makes you think they were looking for financial information?’

He immediately coloured. ‘Some of the companies are large financial houses.’

‘And you are familiar with the names of these large financial institutions, Yagami-kun?’

‘Anyone who reads a newspaper will be aware of them, Ryuuzaki. That's general knowledge at the very least,’ he scoffed.

‘Maybe it’s exactly as we have speculated. They are using this method as a way to find information about the victims and then exact revenge.’

‘It still doesn’t equate to murder. Why these particular individuals? Why not the other millions of paedophiles and child abusers around the world?’

‘Lack of evidence, being believed, having money also makes it easy for you to buy your way out of even the most vile accusations. The judicial system doesn’t always work in a victims favour. And I don't believe you are ignorant of this, especially as the son of a Chief.' Ryuuzaki said before turning around. 

And yet you work for that same system, Raito thought.

An hour passed, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate. But the decisive moment that prompted him to leave and seek out his father, came in the guise of a sleeping man. A photo had fallen from the table and as he picked it up, he was met with the slumber like features of an adult male. He blinked, only to see that the head was resting in a the dog bowl, while a dog, in the background was gnawing on the arm.

His stomach lurched, and he stood abruptly. Sweat had already collecting on the back of his neck, itching where the hairs had stuck. He would no longer waste time at the NPA, with the case, with L or Ryuuzaki.

He...he wouldn’t survive.

Stepping forward he extended his hand. ‘It was a pleasure working with you,’ he said.

Ryuuzaki could see him swallow deeply and his complexion was stained grey. For a moment it hung in the air, and then he accepted the hand.

The rest of the team left shortly after, and in the empty room, he sat by the computer and started typing. The image of the investigation room came up on the screen and he zoomed in on both of them sitting and talking. He turned up the speakers.

‘ _Maybe it was simply, wrong place wrong time. Looking for financial information in large organisations is not unheard of.’_

Ryuuzaki had failed to inform Raito of two pieces of information. An eyewitness statement in 2019, indicated that a slim man of Asian descent had been seen loitering around several days before the murder, and the elderly lady, Mrs Saiko, her computer was donated by the ‘Computers for Futures’ project, Raito had worked on five years ago.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Thoughts of Past Trauma

#  Chapter Eight

‘Come in!’

As he entered, his father gestured to the chair as he finished up a call. 

‘How’s mother?’ he asked, as he took a seat.

‘She’s fine, misses you as always and looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. What is it, son?’

‘I wanted to let you know that I’m stepping down from the case. My time and priorities will be focused on the school.’

‘I understand your commitment, and I’m proud of the dedication you have to the school, but your efforts will prove invaluable here on this case,’ he said, removing his glasses; rubbing at his already tired eyes.

‘That’s not true. You credit me with too much.’

‘Not at all.' Soichiro dragged his palm down his already shadowed chin. 'I’m not saying to give up the school, but I’m sure you can split your time between the two for a while, or pass it over to the school's Assistant Deputy Director. This-this is of paramount importance, which I'm sure the faculty would understand, given the gravity of the situation, and work around your schedule for a while. You did it before.’

And it had cost him dearly. ‘That was then, this is now,’ he said agitated, 'this is not something I will change my mind over, or want to change my mind over.’

‘Have you spoken with L?’ he said rubbing his temple.

He knew L had personally asked for his son to be involved in this case. He was not a man most said no to.

‘Yes, but that’s irrelevant,’ he said, shaking his head trying to keep on track. ‘And to be clear, at no point did I state that I would be part of this case. It was a decision that was made for me.’ The words, 'between you and L', went unsaid.

Soichiro placed his glasses on the table and laced his fingers. ‘I didn't think you would be opposed to the idea, and took it on principle that you would join.'

'Well, if you can reiterate my position to, L.' His shoulders finally eased the tight hold over his neck.

He could feel the wilful behaviour riling his sense of duty. 'Don't you feel some kind-any kind of moral obligation? How are you able to standby so easily, while another heinous act is committed without further thought to how you could have helped? Be able to sleep at night knowing that-that thing is out there.’

‘Don’t you dare question my moral obligation and blame me for the actions of a serial killer. That's both ludicrous and inexcusable,’ he seethed. The tension returning tenfold. 

He let out an audible sigh. ‘You're right, I'm sorry, son.' He was tired and this situation didn't help. 'All I'm saying is, you have the ability to help, maybe even solve the case, and yet you won't.' He immediately raised his hand when Raito started to interrupt, '-let me finish. The progress that you made this morning has been noted by all, and it confuses me why you wouldn't want to help. You can't compare the magnitude of this case to seeking funding for the school. One requires acute skills, which I am proud to say you have. While the other can be done by anyone in your department, and from what you’ve said in the past, the school is doing well with funding and has highly capable staff.’

‘I agree, we've made considerable headway, and the staff are exceptional' he said with a modicum of pride, 'but that’s not what I want to do I-’

‘Not what you want t- My Goodness, Raito! It’s not about what you want to do, it’s about what you should do!’ 

‘Well, that’s your belief not mine.’ he said as he got up, and turned to leave. 

‘And what's your belief? To turn your back on your community, the people that need you?’

Raito turned, eyes steely. ‘The people that need me are the kids in my school, so _they_ don’t turn out to be mass murdering self-righteous psychotic maniacs, skinning people alive, when they have every right to, when the same community abandoned them in the first place.’

Soichiro stood abruptly. The lines on his face becoming more pronounced as his colour deepened and his large frame gave him an ominous presence. ‘Doesn’t this play on your conscience?'

‘I’ll have peace of mind knowing that the NPA and L are at the forefront of the investigation. So my conscience is clear enough to move on.’

‘This decision you have made is an embarrassment to me and our family name. And to know that my...my only son is willing to turn his back on the community, the NPA and-’

'Don't you dare use the death of my brother to give your argument urgency...' he closed his eyes for a few heart beats then opened them in watery frustration, ‘it's reprehensible.’

‘Your view of your brother has always been skewered,' he dismissed, 'you always failed to see what Chou-Nan-’

‘Don’t you say anything against him. Don’t you criticise him when he’s not here to defend himself. You have no right to say his name!’ His voice reared, as his eyes burned with pain at the twisted indignation and pious attitude from this man who believed he was absolved of any wrongdoing, when he himself had made decisions years ago based on his own twisted philosophy of self preservation. 

‘An accomplice, an accomplice to a murderer. That’s what I see when I look at you,’ he spat, pointing at his son. He was hurt, angry and looking to wound. 

Raito steeled himself. His height matching his father’s. ‘Given the profile of the victims, murdered in retribution for abusing their children, would _you_ fear for your life, father?’

The look of sheer malevolence heated the room several degrees.

‘Get out!’ he growled. His tone brokered no doubt of the intense fury as he leaned towards Raito; his large weathered knuckles turning white with pressure, as his weight was forced against the desk. 

He dropped his eyes at both the caustic look and command of his father, and reflexively panned to where the multiple scars criss-crossed on the ridges of the knuckles against the desk. Then images, strong and pungent, blazed across his mind.

 _...the gnarled and sodden body of his brother, eyes white, as they rolled back in their smashed sockets, spasms as he shook, the liquid dark and rich flowing, flowing, flowing._

His breath stilled. He turned, grabbed the handle and pulled the door sharply, leaving in his wake the echoes of an office door slamming against the wall, its glass frame reverberating violently throughout.

He couldn’t remember how he got to his car in the carpark below. The deep slow breaths he was trying to take, were blocked by the look on his father’s face, stuck on repeat in his mind.

He rested his head against the steering wheel and started mumbling, placed the key in the ignition, and the car screeched from the underground car park out of the building.

Soichiro paced behind the desk, as he trawled through the last visceral moments. He knew his anger stemmed from the lack of control over the desertion. Nonetheless, he would not apologise for his brother. He was not this god Raito had made him out to be. He deserved to die in that accident. 

He would make no apologies for that.

************************

By the time he reached the doors of Youkoso Teien, he was visibly shaking, his signature was scrawl as he confirmed his admission to the building. He staggered into the secluded room as he shoved open the door. 

Struggling to breathe, his conscious thoughts were failing miserably in its attempt to stem the flow of acrid words that spewed from his haemorrhaging mind.

Chou-Nan turned the chair to face his brother after the loud entry had alerted him to his presence.

‘What...is...wrong?’ he breathed. Voice laced with alarm.

He stumbled towards his brother. His knees, hitting heavily against the floor, echoed through the room as he rushed to close his arms around him while his strained breaths made him shake uncontrollably.

Chou-Nan raised his arms and wrapped them around him, holding on as tightly as his body would allow. Feeling the rapid heart beats against his body.

Raito was still trying to think. He had managed to rein them in, but the problem with having an eidetic memory is, you never forgot anything and the words wouldn’t stop coming.

_...room, brother, bones, blood, screaming, sadness, crawling, broken, blood, blood, strangled, knife, low oxygen, red, brother, home, I’m dying again, help me, help me..._

‘Help-me,’ Raito strained.

‘Physiology...Ito...Amygdala?’ said Chou-Nan.

‘A...part of the brain is...limbic system...that attaches emotional significance to information. Mediates both…defensive and aggressive behaviour,’ Raito responded as fast as the words could fall from his lips.

‘Broca’s... Aphasia?’ said Chou-Nan more slowly.

‘A... aphasia associated with damage to the...Broca’s area of the brain...demonstrated by the impairment in producing understandable speech.’

‘Good...Coefficient of Determination?’

‘The statistic or number determined by...squaring the correlation coefficient. Represents the...amount of variance accounted…for by that correlation.’ Raito mildly strained.

‘Random Biology...Durophagy?’ Chou-Nan wheezed.

‘Animals that...consume hard shelled organisms such as coral...molluscs, or crabs.’ Raito breathed easier.

‘Eburnation?’ Chou-Nan continued.

‘Alteration of a bone...to make it…dense and ivory like?’

He held him tight. ‘Femorotibial?’

‘Pertaining to the...femur and tibia,’ Raito stated.

‘Genetic...polymorphism and Genucubital?’

‘Genetic variation within a...population and pertaining to the...knees and elbows.’

‘Haemostasis...the processes?’ Chou-Nan said.

Raito took a deep breath. ‘The process of blood clotting and then...the subsequent dissolution of the clot, following repair of the injured tissue, is termed haemostasis. Vascular constriction of the blood to injury, and platelets activated by thrombin... then a fibrin mesh is produced over the injury, trapping white platelets called thrombus; if red blood...cells are present it is called a red thrombus. The clot must dissolve in order for normal blood flow to resume following tissue repair. The dissolution of the clot occurs...through the action of plasmin.’

Only the shallow but alleviating breaths dared to whisper around the room.

He rubbed broken circles onto his back. He understood the invasion of images of a past best forgotten. When Raito could not control his mind, the alphabet game would calm him, a conditional reflex that created a diversion while re-aligning thoughts.

‘Go...lay down,’ Chou-Nan breathed.

Too exhausted to stand, he crawled on his hands and knees to the sofa. This was his third attack in three months.

Chou-Nan manoeuvred himself as near as he could, bumping into the sofa, and rested his hand on the sweaty forehead after feeling around for a moment.

‘everything…is alright?’ 

He exhaled. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, in between the movement of his lips, as he quietly recited the acts in the Tragedy of Othello. In its simplest form, a tale about love and loyalty lost, in the lies that spun from the tongues of others, until it entwined with the words of trust, and suffocated a pure love. Nothing was more apt.

After some time he began to doze.

Chou-Nan carefully removed the tie, still secured around Raito’s neck. Nimble fingers that could type 135 words per minute, were slow with the twists of the tie. He eventually undid the top three buttons, and then moved his fingers along the top of the chest where he felt three horizontal ridges. He softly massaged the scarred skin.

Raito gripped his hand. ‘Don’t.’ he whispered, turning over and facing the back of the sofa.

But for the soft sounds of breathing, the room eventually became still once again.

He wheeled himself toward the window that exposed the world that existed beyond the horizon, and he recalled the day his life ended as he sat engulfed in the darkness of the room.

**_November 16 th, 2008_ **

The ground was damp or was it wet? He wasn’t sure.

There was a metallic acrid smell that accompanied the hysterical loud shouts and incessant banging. The constant unrelenting thud...thud...thud that he tried to protect himself from were kicks, as one of the black shoes had come towards him, as he lay on the floor, had crushed his eye socket moments earlier.

He could hear Raito screaming, and he tried to get to him, but the tugging on his leg slowed him down. He only managed to glimpse the sliver of metal, before it swiped again tugging at his leg. 

He remembered hearing the voice of a man, but he wasn't sure. The pain from his body was distracting his thoughts, and when he was swung to the ground from another blow, his teeth fell to the ground of the shed, and landed near the stone that was dressed in his blood.

Then stillness. Like the universe had stopped spinning and absolute zero had been reached.

Then a heavy weight hit the ground.

Raito’s body, marred and saturated with blood, crawled to him, screaming, ‘Get up, get up!’ His small hand shaking his torn shirt, demanding his coherency.

The last image, that still lives in his heart today, was of sweet copper coloured eyes that bled.

He remembered waking to a blacked out room, with ringing in his ears, and his wrists swathed.

He had drifted in and out of consciousness with no rational thought for days, and still they kept him in darkness.

He dreamt of Raito, his bedroom, their tent, the garden and the shed. 

A doctor came, and the plastic chair strained as he sat down to explain that he would be here for a while, because he had tried to kill himself, and they needed to heal his body and his mind. 

His broken and wired jaw made it impossible for him to scream, and his hysterics brought the nurses running to his bedside with a medicating needle.

‘M... fa ...her ...me!’ he tried to tell them. How desperately he tried. But the words would not escape against the wires that meshed his jaw shut. 

Dr Hanoi had stepped back, jolted from the plastic chair by the sheer force of the frenzy exhibited by the small child whose father had committed him to the Lantern Mental Institute for Adolescents.

He was nine years old. 


	10. Chapter 9

#  Chapter Nine

The long drive back, meant that he arrived at the complex at 1am., on Tuesday morning. He had not explained the reason for the panic attack. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. And it was attributed to stress at work. Chou-Nan wasn’t convinced but spared him any further unease by admitting to such.

His eyes stung as he drove, trying to recall the last time he had eaten. He had been reluctant to entertain the idea when he had woken: his roiling stomach was warning enough that his body would rebuke any form of sustenance. Still, he would need to find a way to regain his sense of equanimity, as today was his meeting with REKG Group at their Head Office in Tokyo. They had not called to cancel, so he would attend the meeting as planned.

Pulling up to the apartment block, he saw the familiar midnight Mercedes parked outside the complex.

He pulled behind the idling vehicle, and sat, listening to the tick tick tick of the engine, after removing the key from the ignition.

The sidelights on his car flashed as he locked the doors on his approach to the limousine. The back door opened, and he slipped inside.

The soft seats moulded around him as he sat down, momentarily running his hand through his hair; pushing back the fringe that frequently threatened to obscure his line of vision.

‘Does L, know that you moonlight with his limousine?’

‘Good morning, Yagami-kun?’ said Ryuuzaki as he witnessed the drawn features. ‘L, is fully aware of my whereabouts at all times.’ 

‘Did my father send you?’ 

‘Why would he?’ The feigned look of confusion was effortlessly conveyed.

He was not surprised when Chief Yagami confirmed he had left the case. It was the expressed ‘need to leave’ that was interesting, not to mention the information he had gathered over the last few days. He could see no urgency in sharing his knowledge at this time. 

‘What do you want?’

‘Yagami-kun.’

‘As steeped in innuendo as that answer is, you have not answered the question.’

‘I have. I want, Yagami-kun...to work on this case.’

‘I’m sure there are others who would be honoured to work with the infamous L. And the NPA are more than adequate support.’

‘L, does not want adequate.’

‘Well, we don’t always get what we want.’

Ryuuzaki almost smiled. ‘You have never met, L.’

The audacity was grating. ‘Why so persistent?’

‘And in turn, Yagami-kun, why so resistant?’ 

They watched each other with mutual dissatisfaction.

Raito exhaled, closed his eyes and let his head fall against the headrest. He had been neurotically careful with his life to date, there would be nothing L would find ‘out of the ordinary’, of his very mundane life, even if his name came up in the investigation as part of the community project. Though he was not ignorant of the fact that any thread of deception, no matter how inconsequential, would be too tempting for L, and he would pull at that thread until something unravelled.

Opening them a few seconds later, he returned the stare directed his way, as Ryuuzaki quietly observed him.

‘Your doggedness is admirable, but unnecessary. My answer still stands, so if you’ll excuse me.’ he said reaching for the handle.

‘Tell me about REKG Group. You have a meeting with them later this morning, in Tokyo.’ 

He let his hand fall.

‘If you know of the meeting, you know of the reason.’

‘Did you not think it was important to tell us of your appointment later this morning?’ 

‘Why is it important?’

‘You do not wear ignorance well, Yagami-kun,’ he said in frustration of the emerging attitude that he began to realise, was an irritating development in his knowledge about Raito.

‘Is this payback because I will not work for L? Someone has dared to tell him no, and this is how he processes the refusal, by interrogating them?’

‘Why would Yagami-kun believe this is an interrogation? Is there a reason why you give merit to such thoughts? 

He shook his head. ‘Your derisory language is annoyingly transparent.’

He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I thought I was being subtle.’

'You flatter yourself,’ Raito said, trying hard not to rub his eyes.

‘And your more discerning qualities are languishing in the recesses of your covertness.’

‘This entire conversation is an exercise in futility. Good night Ryuuzaki.’ Again, he reached for the handle.

‘Work with me on this investigation.’

‘I have already -’ he started.

‘It would be in your best interest,’ Ryuuzaki finished.

He suddenly stilled at the intonation. ‘Why would it be in my best interest?’

There were so many reasons, he mused. Why Raito had a meeting with REKG Group in the middle of an investigation but withheld the details? Why no one can recall seeing Takian Yamoai, the Principal of his school? Why he had not come forth with the details that several of the victims were contributing to the school? Why the donated computer, part of the computer project donated by him and his affiliates, was spewing out interesting codes? There were too many situations of happenchance. Yet, in the middle of this murder investigation, like an ethereal being, was Raito.

The silence was broken by a ringing phone. 

Ryuuzaki answered, then ended the call a few moments later.

He pressed the intercom. ‘I’m ready.’

That was Raito’s cue to leave. He finally opened the door and exited the vehicle.

The car pulled away into the quiet street. Its break lights a blast of firework red, illuminated the road before the car turned left without indicating.

It was not the fault of the night air that left him chilled, as he walked back to his car. He knew he had made three mistakes in the past twenty-four hours: his father, Ryuuzaki, and in turn, L. 

He had to distance himself, or maybe he could disappear. 

He had done it before.

He could do it again.

************************

‘Matt, your phone’s ringing!’ 

‘I know, I’m in the bathroom, get it for me.’

He swiped to the left as he drank. 

‘Talk to me.’

‘Matt?’

‘No, Matt’s in the bathroom.’

‘Tell Matt he has an all level clearance on, Yagami-Raito.’

‘Whoa, did you just out him as Kira or something?’

The silence was deafening.

‘We’re on it, L.’

************************

The apartment was decidedly cold, before he remembered the central heating was on a timer, and had switched itself off, late yesterday evening.

His meeting was not until 10 a.m., so he had time to rest and re-strategise. He chose a black suit, along with a blue silk shirt and tie, which he hoped would detract from his tired features. The shower shortly after, did little to eliminate the tension, but it gave him time to think. He had promised Chou-Nan, they would look for a short break away. He needed it. They both did.

A few hours later, after taking a few bites of a sandwich he had no appetite for after making, he sat sipping on tea. Reading the details of the school’s finances, he was glad to see they had done well over the last few years. The school would have more than enough for a possible extension into the back fields. The scholarship scheme starting next spring, was on track, with several clauses in revision that would ensure that it was targeted at the best with the least.

His mobile alerted him to a call. The number withheld. He ignored it.

It rang a second time.

‘Hello?’

‘Mrs Arding-Waoin, you were acquainted with her?’

His body physically slumped at the sound of Ryuuzaki’s voice.

‘A fund raiser in early March, but I gather you already know that.’

‘She planned to be in Tokyo for three days. Yesterday was her second day. Did you meet with her anytime during her stay?’

‘No. Why?’

‘Process of elimination,’ he said, ‘an invariable circumstance of an investigation.’

‘And the result is to call me?’

‘Correct.’

‘Again, I find myself asking the same question, what do you want?’

‘Her body, or what remains of it, was found early this morning.’

He almost lost the few bites of sandwich he had eaten earlier.

‘Am I a-a suspect?’

‘Are you planning any holidays overseas, Yagami-kun?’

He remained silent.

‘Then we understand each other.’


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some technical terms. Nothing overwhelming. :-)

#  Chapter Ten

‘Mello, are we ready?’

‘Yeah, he’s just arriving.’

The bright lights of the plush Head Office of the REKG Group, assaulted his eyes as he entered the building. He was clearheaded, courtesy of the free flowing coffee through his circulatory system.

Ms Laio, the Personal Assistant, greeted him with a customary bow, and he obliged in return. He followed her to the elevator but requested the use of the stairs. Surprised, but professional, she accompanied him, and they arrived on the eighth floor, with Ms Laio, a little more red-faced and winded than before. 

He followed her into the last room on the right, where the smell of familiar roasted beans and refreshments were laid out at the far end of the room; his potential donors, seated on the opposite side of a dark wood table, made for a familiar assembly. 

After greeting his hosts, he sat down and removed a few papers and his laptop from his briefcase.

‘Thank you both for allowing me the opportunity to...’

There was a definite buzzing in the room, and the lights dimmed, as the blinds automatically closed. 

In the centre of the table, emanating from an unknown light source, projected a large holographic insignia that spun on its vertical axis.

‘Good morning,’ came the clear, synthesised voice that emanated from the twirling L. 

Momentarily thrown. He tried to comprehend the surreal moment.

Mr Goldman, an unassuming, yet man of prominence, smiled warmly to him. ‘Mr Yagami, please accept our apologies for not informing you sooner. We didn’t have time as the request was made this morning by our Senior Group Manager, to permit another interested party to join us, which we were happy to oblige, especially when we were told that Mr L is an acquaintance of yours, and you would be honoured to have him join us regarding your school.’

‘Thank you for extending the invitation so quickly,’ the synthesised voice echoed.

Both smiled and nodded slightly at the hologram.

There was another short pause. ‘It is good to see you again, Mr Yagami. Please continue.’

With the countenance of a man determined, he embarked on his talk that was planned, polished and honed from years of experience. This was not an exhaustive exercise, he was proud to discuss the school, their accomplishments, notoriety, and the children who attended, identifying them by name, describing their quirks and needs. Still, his motivations were driven by two goals. First, generating funding and sponsorship. Second, to prove he was a simple Director of Funding for the Nikkou School with nothing to hide. The latter, intended for L.

‘Thank you for such a wonderful account of both the school, and its position in the community,’ said Mr Goldman turning to Mrs Hun, who smiled in approval.

The system cracked slightly. ‘Takian Yamoai, the founder, where is he, Mr Yagami?’

He faced the two hosts with his response. He would not, under any circumstance, address a hologram. ‘He is currently travelling overseas for the development of an exchange student programme facilitated by the school.’

He had encountered similar questions over the years, but this answer usually proved satisfactory, even to some of his staff, who had yet to meet the famous founder. 

However, this was L.

‘How often does he attend fund raising events?’

‘Well, his altruistic outlook means he contributes tirelessly to numerous causes, not just the school. And with his busy schedule, it means that he’s not always able to attend events. But as a representative, I attend in his absence, as you yourself will understand.’

‘Did he attend the fund raiser in March of this year?’ His voice was brusque, like he was ticking off a set of questions on a sheet, only paying attention enough, so he could assimilate and then move on to the next. Like an interrogation.

‘No, but I was in attendance.’

‘Where was, Mr Yamoai?’ 

‘He was, as is now, overseas.’

‘Where overseas?’

‘His travels take him all over the world, but he’s currently in Australia.’

‘Where in Australia?’ said L, far more energetic than even he expected. 

‘Victoria.’

‘I’m sure you can do better than that, Mr Yagami. Which school in particular?’ L pursued.

‘You already know where he is.’ Raito smiled.

‘Why, would I know?’ The voice was decidedly puzzled.

‘Because you’re... _Mr_ L.’

The look that passed between the hosts, was tantamount to their understanding that this form of questioning, did not fall along the usual lines of interest.

The Cloistered L spun for a number of revolutions.

‘Thank you, Mr Yagami. I will be in contact shortly with a specified amount.’

The lights brightened, the blinds opened as the character vanished and the link died.

Mr Goldman and Mrs Hun, continued to talk with him further and he left the office with a regular donation from REKG Group, not to mention 'a specified amount' from the infamous L, and it wasn’t even 11 a.m.

By the time he had arrived at the station, his elation had waned.

The focus on the Principal was an indiscretion that should not be unearthed.

************************

It was 2.45 p.m. The meeting had proved fruitless, and though he did not fool himself into believing it would yield something new, it had done what it was intended to do: alert Raito to their area of interest: The Principal.

‘Think you should read this,’ said Matt, handing him the iPad.

The light illuminated his face as he took in the details:

> _Chou-Nan and Raito Yagami, born at International Catholic Hospital (Seibo Byoin), Shinjuku, Tokyo, on Wednesday, February 28 th, 1999 at 18.45 p.m. and 19.15 p.m., respectively._

Year of the Dragon. Metal Dragon

> _Chou-Nan 6lbs and eleven ounces. Raito 3lbs and three ounces. Raito, twelve weeks in intensive care from an infection further complicating his condition: low birthweight, and size. Considered a premature baby of approximately two months, returned home, when he had reached 5lbs and ten ounces._

However, the data was sporadic and incomplete. This concerned him, along with the fact that both blood types of the children, recorded earlier as O, which made them monozygotic: identical twins, was, from a later file, referred to as fraternal: dizygotic twins, but their blood types had been removed from both sheets along with eye and hair colour, and any distinguishing birthmarks. This created a noticeable and deliberate disparity.

‘A possibility of hiding a Heteropaternal Superfecundation is about 2.4%, of the number of Identical twins born yearly,’ said L, as he swiped and enlarged the page to examine the signature on the last sheet. ‘It’s an interesting phenomenon when two ova from the same cycle are fertilised by two different acts of sexual intercourse, by two genetically different sperm.’

‘Two fathers same mother?’ stated Mello.

‘Correct. They are not identical, which is when they are fertilised by the same sperm which produce two genetically identical children during mitosis. And not fraternal either, fertilised by the same father and two separate ova.’

‘So, if not fraternal nor identical then what?’ Matt asked, as he sat at the desk, fingers nimble as he scrolled through the data. ‘Okay, so we have two ova released from the same mother, possibly at the same time, which in theory happens in 5-10% of all cycles. Therefore, if an unfertilised ovum can survive between 12 and 24 hours, the fertilisation of each would have to be in quick succession,’ said Matt, with a wry expression.

‘Possibly. However, due to the pre-mature state, I would suspect fertilisation took place two months later, under normal menstruation, which can happen even when pregnant, then fertilisation of the second ovum occurred, therefore, we have two half-brothers,’ said L.

‘DNA’s a bitch,’ mumbled Mello, legs dangling over the arm of the sofa.

L stood behind Matt. ‘How much time do we have?’

‘Approximately three more days, the inverse program is slow, but once this baby’s broken…’ The sound of his dry hands rubbing together signified his glee.

‘And the brother?’ said L turning to Mello.

‘His history is a bit obscure, almost as if the information had been deliberately removed. From what we gathered, he died at the age of ten or eleven, after he was in and out of mental institutions, then it gets cloudy. During his transfer to another facility, he died in a car accident. Three people perished at the scene: him, his driver and the driver of the other vehicle. The funeral was held one week later. Apparently, the state buried him.

His walk towards the end of the room was slow, while his thoughts raced. He settled into the tall leather chair, which voiced its discontent, adjusting under his uneven weight, as cold souls met with cold leather.

He pondered the strength of character it would take to leave your first-born child in an institution. What was so troubling about a child that you would have him removed from society at such a young age.

For a moment, his thoughts focused on Matt and Mello. He was glad they had decided to work here in Japan, they had other routes they could have easily followed at fourteen and fifteen. But they had accepted his offer, after a dire situation where he thought he'd lost them both.

He was both grateful and relieved. 

He continued to flick through the data. Raito’s profile showed him in a mundane almost average light. Yet, from the age of ten or eleven, when his life changed on the death of his brother, he had opened six bank accounts in various regions of Japan, under his mother’s maiden name. In 2010, they had closed. 

************************

The lingering hug felt good.

‘Happy…today?’ he said, as Raito let go.

‘Better today. And we’re going away for the weekend. We’ll drive somewhere, and wherever we end up, we’ll stay.’

Chou-Nan’s lopsided laugh was warm.

‘If you call...planned to the nth...degree...spur of the...moment...so be it.’

‘So, what did you do today?’ asked Raito, as the three packet of biscuits crinkled into position in the tall thin cupboard.

‘Touta…came to see…me,’ he said. 

‘You and Touta seem to be getting along better these days,’ he said, with his back to his brother. 

‘Why?...Jealous?’ Though his voice was light. There was an edge to the retort.

He turned when the hairs on his neck prickled and knelt easily in front of his brother. ‘I know I’m not always here with you, so you having a friend in Touta would give me great comfort, especially when I know you're with someone who cares about you.’ 

‘Are you…trying…to marry me…off?’ he said teasingly, rolling the wheelchair forward so that it hit his leg.

‘Absolutely!’ he said, planting a rare kiss on his forehead.

There was a light knock on the door.

‘Well, speak of the devil,’ he said, stepping back so Touta could enter the room.

‘What have I done now?’ he said walking straight over to Chou-Nan. ‘Something for later,’ he whispered shaking a large plastic bag.

‘Shall we all…go out…tonight?’ Chou-Nan blurted out.

‘I know,’ Touta said excitedly, ‘there’s a nice place not far from here, they have superb facilities for wheelchair access!’. 

‘I’ve a lot to do. You both go.’

At a time when things were almost lost, Touta was there without question to help them both. He would be forever indebted to him.

A smile broke over Touta’s face. ‘If you’re really sure. I mean, we’d really love for you to join us.’

‘Sure, I’m sure.’ he said.

While opening the door his phone vibrating in his pocket.

‘Hello?’ He answered without looking at the number.

‘I would like to meet with you.’

He hitched his bag higher onto his shoulder. ‘I’ve already-’

‘We found, Takian Yamoai. Did you know that his birthday is the 28th February, year of the Dragon? A lone wolf, intelligent, ability to grasp new concepts, emotionally stunted, ambitious, authoritarian.’

‘Horoscopes Ryuuzaki?’ he sighed, ‘Tendency to aggression, deceptive, irrational and lack of focus or personal drive. Guess year of the Rat suits you better. Are we done?’

Without further thought, he disconnected the call.

His solemn features visible as he turned, propelled both Touta and in turn Chou-Nan, into silence.

‘He knows about Takian Yamoai, or he knows something.’ 

He crouched, resting his hand on his brother’s lap. ‘I’m not sure what direction L is taking this case, but I’m not taking any chances on his ability to stop anytime soon, especially as he works in close contact with the NPA. If you have to leave, until this blows over, or in an emergency, head to our special place, take Touta with you.’

The case had dramatically changed direction. He could only view his position now as one of consequence. Even so, he would not jeopardise, what he worked so hard to create, collapse around him. More so to the whimsical practices of a cosseted individual, whose only motive, it seems, is to ruin what he can’t control. 

He wouldn’t let that happen again. Not now. Not ever.

He looked deep into those expressionless eyes. Though the scars were faint close up, he could still see their trails. 

He straightened and turned. ‘Look after him until I’m back.’

He hurried to Dr Hanoi’s office, simultaneously knocking and opening.

‘Dr Hanoi, do you have a few moments?’

‘Of course. How is everything, how’s-’

‘There may be a problem,’ he said pacing. 'I have things in place for an emergency move, as you know, should he need to leave quickly. I believe, at this point in time...it may be an inevitability. I ask that you assist him as best as you can when the time comes.'

The long sofa against the wall was a welcome respite as he sat, hands draped between his legs. 'I always thought it would be my father on our trail. Not...'

Dr Hanoi breathed in and then with more control breathed out. ‘Who's on your trail if not your father?’

He closed his eyes as he tilted his head back. His shoulders were pulling on his neck once again. 'I don't have time right now to explain in any suitable detail, but, it's important that you stay alert.' Raito stood up. ‘I want to thank you for everything you have done for Chou-Nan and me, for your years of support. I can never repay your kindness.’

'I don't expect payment to help family.'

Raito's eyes focused just above his head. He needed to keep his composure. 

‘Never thought this day would come,’ Dr Hanoi finally voiced. His face ashen.

‘Thank you for everything, Dr Hanoi. Everything.’ Raito repeated. 

He took off his glasses, and his oak eyes sparkled in the dim fluorescence. ‘Is there anything more I can do? Is there anything _you_ need?’

‘You have done more than enough,’ he said, allowing himself to smile just a little.

Dr Hanoi remembered that smile.

He was twenty-two years old when he first met Raito at age ten. He had met Chou-Nan, a year earlier in another institution, battered and unconscious. His father had said that Chou-Nan had tried to commit suicide. However, the wounds on his body, spoke of another very different event, one more befitting a frenzied attack. His father, who was now Chief of the NPA, had, at the time, been a Task Force Head operative, a senior and influential member of staff.

The institute was not a place for a nine-year-old boy with a disability and speech impediment, he acquired, he suspected, after the attack. The bullying and physical abuse by the other patients was inevitable. Sometimes, after not seeing him for a few days, he would return to a bruised and scratched body. His limited movement meant that it was impossible for him to escape any attack. Every time he had asked Chou-Nan about it, he received the same response.

‘It is…not…important…I…am not…important.’

His conscience would not allow him to turn a blind eye, so he vowed to stand by him. He would look out for him in the absence of anyone.

Then after a year, a boy turned up. He was calm and poised, and when he saw Chou-Nan all he did was hug him. Within two months Chou-Nan, had been moved to another institute, and without hesitation, he had transferred with him. Then his life ended, only to begin again here. During the years, he learned that Raito had a vicious love for his brother; using his intelligence to ensure his care and safety. He kept himself emotionally and physically distant from people. His needs did not seem to extend any further than his brothers. There was no room for anyone else.

When they had arrived at Youkoso Oka Teien all those years ago, Raito had smiled at him. This was the same smile.

Gratitude.


	12. Chapter 11

#  Chapter Eleven 

The familiar building came into view. He parked in his allocated space and sat for a few moments in the quiet of the underground carpark as the feeling of floating subsided. After a few stabilising breaths, he exited the car, his bag, seemingly heavier than before, caused him to stumble on the first step, and for the first time, he placed genuine thought in to using the elevator. 

Turning the corner, his heart skipped twice, and he slowed, just a fraction, while approaching his apartment. 

Ryuuzaki casually stood up, creating a close intimate arrangement at the door, as Raito, exhibiting an air of indifference, entered, as if a crouching man by his door was a regular occurrence. 

He hovered at the entrance, before removing his trainers and entering without invitation; knowing he would be waiting indefinitely before he received one. 

The kettle was beginning to boil, as he prepared his drink, his mind reeling at the imposition. He needed the sense of control, something to compensate for the feeling of the ground being pulled out from under him, and making a simple tea, would be the conduit to that control. 

Ryuuzaki sat on the stool. Watching. Waiting. Frustrated. 

‘Your Assistant was more than happy to cover in your absence, especially when we explained to the School Deputy, you would be working with the NPA.’ 

He clenched his jaw as the hot water from the kettle splashed over his hand. His walk to the sink was measured, and the cool water over his skin was a welcome balm to both his hand and mind.

‘Make sure you pack for at least three days.’ 

The towel felt rough as he dabbed at the scald, but he went back to his tea and stood, ankles crossed, sipping, while the red blotch throbbed. 

‘Your father is very proud that you have decided to collaborate with us, especially after L passed on the news to him this morning.’

‘The Kindergarten children play this game; it’s called seeking attention. In psychology it’s called attention-seeking behaviour, and it can stem from jealousy, low self-esteem, loneliness, or as a result of a personality disorder. Do you have a personality disorder, Ryuuzaki?’ he asked as he sipped his tea. 

His eyes shone. _Amusing_. ‘Also, L was very interested in finding the Principal. It seems like many of the staff at your school have been without one for a while.’

‘And for your next trick...’ 

‘Where did you go today?’

His eyes flickered to Ryuuzaki for a second before returning to the cup. 

‘It wouldn’t take long to do a quick trace of your vehicle using CCTV.’ 

Raito's need for a UV30 UHF VHF jammer had been paramount years ago, CCTV evasion, was not news. Gold star for the shrewd threat though.

The smell of the tea was taking its toll, and he emptied the remains into the sink, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. Rinse, turn, rinse, cup. Rinse, turn, rinse, spoon. Rinse, turn, rinse, saucer. Control, control, control.

The swill of the water in the sink, and the occasional squeak of the sponge, was all that could be heard until the last of the cutlery was put away. 

He finally faced him. ‘I will not change my mind, so you should leave.’ Raito stepped closer to the island, his voice threatening. ‘Now.’

This type of contentious energy he could work with: he could also exploit. ‘Collaborate with me for three days, and then you can return to your life.’ 

He was confused. ‘Why three days?’

‘Why _not_ three days?’

‘Three days-and this stalking ends.’ 

‘Three days, Yagami-kun.’

The ticking clock reminded them of its presence, as they stared without breaking eye contact.

He finally nodded his assent. 

Eyes widening at the concession, he eased the phone from his pocket.

‘Bring the car round.’

************************

He packed in silence after closing the bedroom door. This method of approach should not have surprised him, he thought. This isn’t kidnapping, because he’s going willingly, and it isn’t quite choice, as he's being coerced into taking this step. On the other hand, he could look upon this predicament as a positive, by using his access to information to his advantage. Still, he wonders if his father knows the true extent of his sudden change of heart, or if he was fed versions of his acquiescence that omit the true strong-armed tactics of L. Not that the way or means would influence his father's conscience, his ethics were questionable at best.

He walked silently around the apartment, taking stock of Raito’s belongings. He ventured into the study and though slightly taken aback by the sheer volume of books that lined the shelves, a sense of comfort ignited in his chest. He remembered a room similar, but grander. 

He fingered along the ledge of one shelf, which housed the entire works of Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, and Edgar Allen Poe. Poetry from Maya Angelou, Louisa May Alcott, William Bryant, T.S. Elliot, and Langston Hughes. Novels and short stories by E.M Forster, John Fox, Rudyard Kipling. There were books on languages, along with academics, too many subjects to mention. It was vast and welcoming.

‘Looking for something in particular?’ Raito asked as he entered, carrying a bag.

Ryuuzaki was quiet for a moment. ‘Shakespeare’s First Folio.’

Raito stiffened. ‘Unfortunately, my budget doesn’t extend to frivolities like that. You could ask L, I’m sure he would gladly pay out millions, for a studious operative as you,’ he said, reaching just above Ryuuzaki’s head, and removing a large leather bound book.

Ryuuzaki continued to finger the spines. ‘Yagami-kun, reads a lot.’

Raito took one more book from the shelf, nudging Ryuuzaki accidently on purpose, his subconsciousness and consciousness wouldn’t let him decide which.

Locking the door as they left, he was under no illusion that L would find some way into his apartment if he so pleased. 

‘Did you actually contact the school, or do I need to call them to let the Deputy know that I will be unavailable for a few days,’ he said, turning to Ryuuzaki, a few paces behind.

‘Why not just call the Principal? I’m happy to wait while you talk to him.’

He turned abruptly. ‘Did you, or didn’t you?’

‘Make the call, Yagami-kun.’ he said, as he walked on.

Raito put his phone away as the car came into view and gave Ryuuzaki a piercing look, as he caught up to him. The Deputy Principal had congratulated him on working such a prominent case, before he could do more than say, ‘Hello, this is Mr Yagami.’

Once inside, he welcomed the softness of the headrest as he tilted back. Closing his eyes, blocking out both the dim lights of the car and Ryuuzaki, his thoughts ambled to the unpredictability of the situation, and the illogical steps that resulted in _him_ being a victim of circumstance. Plato's Apology encroached upon his reflections. Its premise focused on the examination of self, and the ideologies that sanction that existence. His initial ideologies about honesty, truth and justice, were left cracked and discarded.

He continued to brood while wondering if they had any fruits or water in this vast car.

The seat next to him seemed to dip, jostling him slightly, and he felt a breeze glide across the bridge of his nose.

‘How is your headache?’

The face, convex in its proximity, startled him as his eyes adjusted to the distance. ‘What are you doing?’ he sneered, shoving hard.

‘I was concerned for Yagami-kun,’ he said, leaning a safe distance away; rubbing at the tender flesh of his chest.

Raito inched towards the door. ‘Your contrived behaviour is pathetic. Did you really get a position with L, based on merit? I’m sure you’re a relative he had no choice but to employ. Like from an aunt or uncle? Or was it a Marker of some kind with a blood stained fingerprint?’

Ryuuzaki straightened his coat. Even in Raito’s state of reservation, he never missed an opportunity to insult. _He liked that_. ‘You believe my social discord to be a calculated performance?’

‘You’re wholly conscious of your behaviour but choose to use it as a means to some kind of cryptic end. So, stop pretending that this isn’t another blundering attempt at provocation.’

‘You have remarkable insight to believe a possible neurological condition can be trifled with. How about we raise your proposed spectrum disorder to bipolar disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder and possibly, though probably, haphephobia,’ he said, giving his chest one more rub.

He smiled as he closed his eyes, feeling safe in the notion that his personal space would not be invaded again. ‘Sarcasm, Ryuuzaki? You must be spending too much time in my company.’

‘This is not sarcasm, just the reality that you are spinning a web you will not be able to free yourself from. You will be the spider trapped in its own web.’

Raito rubbed his forehead disturbing the hairs, as they danced between his fingers.

‘What will you do when your world comes crashing down, Yagami-kun?’ _And another behind bars, begins._

The hum of the engine, though faint, was easy to pick up in the quiet of the vacuous belly of the limousine.

‘Courting lies, can lead to a loss of liberty,’ he continued.

‘Are you threatening me with conjecture?’

Ryuuzaki leaned forward. ‘Only your entire existence.’

Raito sighed deeply. _‘You’re an arsehole.’_ he mumbled in fluent Finnish as he settled more comfortably into the seat.

‘Vocabulary of a true scholar, Yagami-kun.’

The hum of the engine could be heard for the remainder of the journey.

************************

The bright artificial lights stung. Otherwise he would have scoffed at Ryuuzaki’s ‘place of residence’ being a five star hotel in Tokyo.

His head felt heavy, as the pain had taken up residence behind his eyes, and nausea promised to expel the bile that had been churning around in his stomach.

They headed for the elevator.

‘Tell me the floor and room number and I will take the stairs,’ Raito mumbled.

‘The penthouse suite, the twelfth floor,’ the driver answered.

‘Thank you,’ he said, and headed for the stairway.

‘He doesn’t look well,’ he mused, as he watched the receding body exit the large foyer.

‘He has a migraine, culminating from low blood sugar and exhaustion,’ Ryuuzaki answered, toeing at the heel of his trainers, eager to remove them.

‘Did he not want the provisions in the bar?’ he asked surprised.

‘I did not offer.’

‘And he didn’t ask I presume?’

‘He was too proud to ask, after he insulted me.’

He looked toward Ryuuzaki. ‘Did you deserve it?’

 _Absolutely._ ‘Yes.’ 

‘But why is he taking the stairs if he’s unwell?’

‘He’s claustrophobic,’ said Ryuuzaki, as they entered the elevator.

************************

He knocked on the door and was confused to see a young man at the threshold. Before he could speak, bile rose, and his hand automatically cupped his mouth.

‘Err…bathroom’s on the right.’

He dropped his bag, and rushed; into the room, and the sound of retching echoed throughout.

Matt removed the bag blocking the door and shoved it in the corner. If he didn’t know any better, he may have taken offence at someone taking one look at him, and then puking.

Ryuuzaki shuffled barefoot into the large living area. His jeans, dragging along the dark wood floor, polished as he went.

‘How does he look?’

‘Like shit. What’d you do to him?’

He was almost offended at the accusation. _Almost_. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

There was another knock on the door and a bellhop dressed in uniform, wheeled in a trolley weighed down with food, over to the large cedar table. Once he laid all the items out, he nodded, then left.

Raito sat for a few moments on the clean tiled floor, taking in the ground view, of the modern bathroom.

Matt entered and took a towel from the rack, wet it slightly, and handed it to Raito, who looked at him briefly, then took the offered relief, to dab his forehead and heated face.

‘Thank you.’

‘Bad Sushi?’ 

‘Bad company.’ offered Raito.

He wiped his mouth gently with the towel and stood with the assistance of the bathroom sink. He placed the used towel in the woven clothes basket and straightened himself as best as he could: running his hand down his front, and mentally pulling himself together. 

‘Sit down before you fall down, mate.’ Came the voice that belonged to ‘yellow hair and moss green eyes’, which looked almost black under the cast of brightness in the room. 

He followed as they made their way to the large dining table, and ‘yellow hair and green eyes’, used his foot to manoeuvre a chair next to him, inviting Raito to sit, by patting the seat and leering.

He chose another. If this was a further ‘impromptu’ interrogation, he would not play nice.

The dining table, with seating for eight people: three on both sides and one at each end, was laden with dishes made of rice, and a myriad of meat and sweet dishes. He couldn’t recall ever seeing such extravagance in one place before.

Ryuuzaki approached the table and pondered the seating arrangements. He carefully pulled out a seat next to Raito, and crouched in the chair, before letting both of his legs reach the floor.

For Raito, the action was a concerted effort to 'sit properly', something he was getting used to seeing and was indifferent about.

‘Go ahead, help yourself.’ Matt ventured.

‘Just water, thank you,’ he said.

‘It will counteract the low blood sugar, Yagami-kun.’

He conceded the point by picking up the chopsticks and placing a few pieces of fish in his bowl with a small amount of noodles, and gingerly tasting the food. He had to be careful with his sensitive stomach, as it had yet to untwist itself from a tight knot. 

‘Well, introductions, I’m Matt, and this here’s Mello,’ he said while slamming a heavy hand down on Mello’s shoulder, who gave a choked moan, ‘and you know the other two gentlemen. Watari, our right hand man, and awesome getaway driver, and to your right, the bane of our existence.’

‘Do you all work for, L?’ he asked, 

Looks were exchanged. ‘Yeah, yeah, we all work for, L,’ said Mello.

Ryuuzaki placed an assortment of cakes on his plate. ‘Is there a strawberry tartlet, somewhere?’

Matt leaned over and the chain around his neck escaped its enclosure and dangled just above his plate. He absentmindedly pushed it against his chest, as he passed the pastry down. He was not happy about missing out on the tartlet. He would have claimed it for himself, if he had known it was there. Possibly licked it for good measure.

‘So, what do you do, apart from throwing up in strangers bathrooms?’ asked Matt, trying to encourage a long strand of off-white noodle back into his bowl.

‘Argh mate, we’re eating!’ Hollered Mello.

Matt just laughed. Yeah, he loved having guests round.

‘Whatever it states in my profile,’ he said, placing his bowl down, and wiping his mouth and hands with the damp towel. _We're not pretending that you don't all work for the infamous L, and you know everything about anything,_ he thought. 

Apart from the stolen looks between his hosts, the scraping of the plates was all that could be heard for a while, and he took the opportunity to look around the room. It was excessively large, with floor to ceiling windows, two long eight-seater leather sofas, and a very polished baby grand. It was a room for the very wealthy: possibly actors, rock stars or …a great detective.

‘So, what now? I mean with your character profiling, mild threats, and stalking, I figured I was in line for the electric chair.’

Ryuuzaki licked his middle finger, sticky from the strawberry glaze he had scraped off his jeans. 

‘Maybe...there’s just a queue,’ said Mello. Their eyes meeting and holding for a few moments, before he turned away.

‘To answer your question,’ said Ryuuzaki, ‘you will spend time with Matt and Mello, going through the files.’

‘Well, if you want me to watch a screen for three days, that’s fine with me.’

Matt caught Ryuuzaki’s eyes, at the mention of three days.

Then it clicked when the room became eerily quiet. ‘Am I here _for_ the investigation or as part _of_ the investigation?’

‘That's the quintessential dichotomy, Yagami-kun. I believe that Takian Yamoai may be relevant to our investigation, but we cannot get hold of him. And you, in his absence, will therefore have to take his place for questioning,’ said Ryuuzaki, watching the play of emotions. ‘However, you will no doubt be vital for the progression of the investigation.’

‘Questioning? What questioning?’ 

‘In his absence, you are his representative are you not?’

He was confused. ‘Yes, but what does that have to do with me?’

‘We now know that all the victims donated to your school. However, we have to assume that if we can't find him, no one has seen him, and he is no where to be seen, then maybe he doesn't exist.'

'Of course he exist!' he said, as he felt the tightening of his chest at the mere mention of his school in the same sentence as 'victims'.

'Or maybe, we have already had the pleasure.’ He stared wide eyed without blinking. ‘Nice to finally meet you… Takian Yamoai.’

Raito’s heart descended.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying the tale so far.  
> Things take a turn for the worse for Raito. He will now need to stay one step ahead.  
> Again, a few liberties with technology.

#  Chapter Twelve

‘I would have expected more from an operative of, L,’ said Raito.

‘Am I mistaken?’

‘Yes.’

‘Explain,’ said Ryuuzaki.

Matt and Mello had stopped eating and focused on the exchange. The clattering of cutlery and plates echoed as Watari started to clear; taking a furtive interest in their talk.

‘Simple. I’m not Takian Yamoai.’

‘Then where is he?’

‘I explained earlier-’ 

‘We’re going around in circles,’ said Ryuuzaki cutting him off.

‘You,’ he said, facing him head on, ‘requested my help for three days, under threat I might add. Three days Ryuuzaki, that was the deal. Now, you're hurling accusations and insinuations, yet have failed to explain why, or provide any basis or probable cause, motivations, positions, theories. Nothing. How many laws do you think you’ve already broken with this set-up?’ he said, waving his hand around. ‘Unbelievably, the great, L, is _not_ above the law, no matter his colossal delusions of grandeur.’ 

Matt and Mello tried to be discreet, and not laugh, by shovelling food into their mouths, and Watari fixed his eyes on Ryuuzaki, at the mention of the word, threat.

He needed time to think and left the table to make his way to the large seating area. This was another underhanded tactic, and he had every right to walk out. But he was not naïve enough to assume he would be permitted to just walk away, the digging would continue, of course it would, there was a connection between the school and the deaths. But could all this really be for the sake of finding the Principal? This whole performance seemed too elaborate for that. Was there more to it? He needed access to their data. 

Matt couldn’t decide if he was impressed or pissed. ‘Geez, he’s a bold so-and-so. He’s literally-literally, in the lion’s den, but acts as if, he, the gazelle, is in charge. Seriously, I think he's awesome. Can we keep him, huh, can we? I promise to look after him, take him for walks, feed him...pet him,’ he wiggled his eyebrows.

Mello scoffed. ‘Not funny, man.’

‘Yeah it is,’ said Matt, getting up and roughly shoving Mello’s head as he walked past.

It was just after 8 pm., and the lights of the skyline clashed with the reflections of their living area. He wondered how the day went with the children. Did they meet their target grades? Did they like the change in their school dinners, which he had altered the budget to include local, fresh and organic? Did they benefit from the new cameras that he had installed outside the gate of the school when one of the mothers had been assaulted, using the profits from his investments to broker a deal for installation, maintenance and upgrades? Did the savings and investment class he taught once a week, continue in his absence? And did the unethical way he sought donations, as opposed to freedom of will, only prove to demonstrate his need to control everyone: situations, people, their actions. He would not question whether he was a good person or not, that was highly subjective. But he was not a criminal...per se.

Raito stared at Ryuuzaki through the reflection in the window as he came to stand behind him. He knew he was not here to make peace.

‘When was the last time you saw, Takian Yamoai?’ asked Ryuuzaki.

‘I'm going to refrain from answering any of your questions unless you make your intentions clear. That way, I can decide if I need to contact my father and a lawyer.’

Ryuuzaki came closer, staring at the leanness of his back. ‘Do I need to make this official, take you down to the NPA building, have your father question your whereabouts; parade you around in handcuffs? Maybe even close the school, while we look for evidence of any further connections, maybe school accounts, student profiles,’ he said with quiet authority.

This was no threat. He was beginning to believe that he had greatly underestimated Ryuuzaki. Greatly.

‘You seem to be lost for words,' he said, noting the sudden flash of anxiety across his face, 'Let me enlighten you, Yagami-kun. He does not exist.’

He shook his bowed head, then raised it. ‘Of course he exists, he is not a spectre, he is alive and well,’ said Raito, turning from the night view.

Ryuuzaki noted the almost imperceptible step back as Raito realised their close proximity.

‘Interesting choice of noun, why would he be a spectre?’

‘Coercive questioning, Ryuuzaki? Not your best move,' he challenged, the disdain evident on his face.

‘Can you prove his existence?’ 

'Don't you have the advances of technology at your fingertips? Aren't you and the great L, able to do a simple phone trace to find out where he is?'

'His phone number seems to be bouncing all over the world. We have yet to pin point his exact whereabouts.'

'Then I suggest you take your frustrations out on your technical team and not me.'

Their heated stare was accompanied by the clicking of the keyboard filling the pause in conversation. 

Ryuuzaki’s stare moved from their ocular embrace, to Raito’s lips, and remained there for several seconds, before moving back to his eyes, and witnessed the tiny flicker of confusion shadow Raito’s face. And he watched as his mouth opened slightly as if to speak, then close, swallowing, as if driving words back down his throat.

He decided to back away. They had reached several dead ends when searching for detailed information about both Raito and Takian. All he had was conjecture, supposition and nothing concrete. Neither had criminal records, not even a parking fine. They both travelled it seemed. One could _not_ be reached, while the other erected barriers that put him _out_ of reach. Yet, none of the other teachers in the school, posed the same profile as either, nor the same inconsistencies, or raised the same red flags.

Raito slumped minutely against the window, and for the first time he gave into the soreness and briefly rubbed his eyes. Now facing the room, he noticed Matt seated at a computer. 

‘Feeling better?’ Matt asked, attention firmly on the screen as he approached. 

He didn’t want to answer in the negative, so opted to lie. 'Yes, thank you.'

Eyes squinting slightly he saw the familiar screen that still had the 'Computer for the Future' sticker on the side.

‘’Cyber Jacker’’, I presume,’ he said, looking at Matt's algebraic code. 

It was long winded, a touch crude, but creative. He would have applied a few short cuts, but he was stumbling along, He would give it two maybe three days maximum, before they hit another hurdle that will, in want for a better word, see the program kamikaze itself and die.

Then something caught his eye.

‘What’s the code running in the background?’ he suddenly asked.

Matt beamed. ‘You noticed that, huh? Well, my own twisted mind gave me a few, not exactly legal ways in cracking this creme egg wide open, and we’re looking at possibly two, maybe three days max, but it could just as well be hours, it tends to reduce the time after each run.’ He pointed to a countdown timer in the corner of the second screen: 2 days, 4 hours, 34 minutes. Pride was written in capital letters all over his face. 'This, my delicate guest, will lead us straight to the source, and possibly a step closer to finding out who is behind the system violations.'

Raito watched for a moment longer before his mind slowly, and at a pace he could only attribute to his tiredness, slid everything into place. Three days-Ryuuzaki had wanted him to stay for three days. Was this entire exercise a ploy? Did they know it was a donation from a project he worked on? Was that the rationale for his presence? Objectively, there were no direct links to him, nothing they could pinpoint. But his involvement in the project, and links with the school, could increase their suspicion. And what if they found the hacker -namely him, would they assume they had also found the killer?

‘Hey muffin, you’re looking a little green there?’

The lens of Matt’s glasses reflected Raito’s look of strained control.

He stood up and headed towards Ryuuzaki who had returned to the leftover pastries at the table, and cleared his throat. ‘As we’re working together for the next three days, I will need to see the files?’

Ryuuzaki looked over at Matt. Matt’s response was to look puzzled.

He licked his fingers from the excess sugar and ambled over: Raito instinctively stepping aside, to allow him passage. 

The secluded room at the furthest part of the floor, was deceptively large, and apart from the forty nine inch monitor resting on a desk, with two marginally smaller ones either side, it housed just a bed and bathroom.

He watched as Ryuuzaki bent over the keyboard and typed quickly, his clothes taut against his back, and the slight protrusion of ribs, rippled the surface of the fabric. He knew he would change the login and password at the next opportunity.

He scrolled relatively quickly, only pausing once to look at the psychological profile of the perpetrator or group: highly intelligent, possibly multilingual with detailed scientific knowledge, access to drugs. Then continued, unconcerned about the figure breathing down his neck.

‘This is not the complete file?’ he finally said.

Ryuuzaki was curious. ‘Why would you say that?’ 

This file was prepared for Raito, and it did indeed lack significant information.

Raito ignored the question and continued scrolling agitatedly.

He was curious to this sudden change in demeaner. ‘Have you figured something out already, Yagami-kun?’

‘I need access to the complete file,’ Raito stated again, choosing to ignore the second question while processing the similarities between himself, the psychological profile, and recalling Ryuuzaki asking about his reading habits only a few hours earlier.

‘That information requires a clearance level you do not have.’

‘You want my help, but you will not give me the means to help.’ He needed to see those files.

‘We have not reached a mutual agreement as yet. You are still withholding information, and as such, so are we.’

‘This is as mutual as we will get.’

‘Then, it is not sufficient.’

His agitation made way for agency, and he stood. ‘You can tell, L, exactly what he can do with his mutual agreement.’

Ryuuzaki saw the moment that Raito had reached his end point, and _something_ had tipped that scale.

He walked through the large room and headed to the door. He would leave. They couldn’t hold him. Not officially.

He bent down to retrieve his bag.

‘If you are heading to Nagano, then the traffic maybe a little heavy at this time, and the train journey may prove a little long, Yagami-kun.’

Raito thought he misheard. ‘What are you talking about?’ he said, unable to get strength behind his words.

‘Your lover, that is where he is staying, is it not?’

Raito felt the effects of dissociation for a few seconds.

‘Your father is on his way to Nagano as we speak. He was very interested to find out about Reiki Laksani, I was surprised he did not know, as I just happened to mention it in conversation,’ he said, eyes dancing in admittance. ‘and he was more than eager to find out more about your _other_ commitment.'

‘You’re not making any sense,’ said Raito, moving towards the door.

With the lie on his tongue and fear in his heart he had to move quickly. They knew about the lodge, his supposed ‘lover’, but they didn’t know about his brother. Not yet. 

‘Yagami-kun, you know you will not get further than the elevator if you leave.’

His retort echoed around the floor as the door slammed shut.


	14. Chapter 13

#  Chapter Thirteen

Matt pushed himself off from the chair, and with an air of complacency, walked over and placed a laptop in front of Mello, and with a few keystrokes he logged on to the live feed throughout the hotel. ‘This should be quick and painless.’ He rubbed his stomach and turned to L. ‘Any cake left?’

He pulled out his mobile. ‘He’s on the eighth floor stairway, don’t let him leave.’ He glanced at the computer screen once more, before disconnecting the call.

************************

He had cleared four floors and was on the eighth. As he hoisted his bag higher up onto his shoulder, he contemplated how he was going to reach Chou-Nan. The Lodge was versed in the law; the right of entry to the institution. The NPA or any Government Official, would require a search warrant or a warrant of arrest, at the very least, and some form of reasonable grounds. But what rational explanation is there for their sudden interest? Unless the investigation into the whereabouts of the principal had led them there. Maybe Ryuuzaki did track him after all. He needed those files. There were too many questions he needed answering.

The shuffles that echoed from below, drew his attention. Looking down in between the railings, he saw a heavy set shadow tethered to a formidable presence, lumbering quicker than was physically possible. The man below looked up. Though he would swear their paths had never crossed before, the malevolence, emanating from his stare, promised a very painful misunderstanding. Were these men for him? The sudden speed of their climb meant that yes, yes they were.

The double doors to the suites, bounced against the wall, and he caught sight of the flashing light of the camera, as he ran through.

Suddenly his head rocked to the side, as his whole body was tackled, and he smashed against the wall. His feet left the floor for a few seconds, as the fist struck his sternum, and he was knocked backwards onto the floor. The ground quickly disappeared from underneath him, as the wrench on his clothes forced him up, and he could do nothing to stop the fast approaching wall, as he was hurled face first. He felt his skin split.

************************

‘Fuck! I thought you said we weren’t doing this roughing up shit anymore!’ said Matt, the unease evident as he watched the live feed, while directing his anger at L.

‘Should never have sent Aiber and his men to do a ‘’catch and return’’. That man cannot distinguish between a paper pusher and a drug pusher,’ said Mello, whose eyes flinched as he watched the arm twist. 

************************

His arm strained as the ligament stretched. His teeth clenched and spit mingled with his blood as his face was pressed against the wall. He choked back an anguished cry as his arm was wrenched further up his back.

‘Apprehended on the eighth floor. Ov-’

He wasn’t sure if he connected, but the sharp pain at the back of his head meant he hit bone. His dead arm was released, and lashing out with force towards the exposed knee, the loud break that reverberated down the hall, was followed by terrified screams.

Clutching his arm, Raito fled.

************************

‘What the hell,’ Matt breathed, blinking at the screen and wiping his hand across his mouth. ‘Watari we-we need medical assistance!’

‘What...what just happened?’ said Mello.

The screen focused on the man writhing on the floor, whose leg was angled ninety degrees...in front.

************************

The damp heat clung to his skin as he ran through the changing room. The sleeve of his jumper was stained as he wiped his forehead again, and a thick red smudge marked the side of his face. The ringing in his ears had yet to stop.

‘He’s in the gym; we don’t have coverage,’ the cracked voice echoed throughout the headsets.

************************

He found a gap in between the pale blue lockers, and pulled out his mobile, and pressed a combination of keys, a code similar to international phone cards. The number entered immediately rerouted. Then he dialled the emergency code for his brother’s one-way pager, a passive receiver only, so its location could not be tracked. Dr Hanoi received the same emergency call.

Raising himself sluggishly from the crouch as his legs held his spent weight, his cheek struck the edge of the locker, and he fell back between the gap, bashing his side. Fingers dug into his skin, dragging him by the back of his neck. He frantically reached for the face, digging and scratching, and was thrown into the lockers. Dazed, he was pulled by the collar, and he watched as the fist pulled back. Gritting his teeth, he shoved two fingers deep into the hollow below the Adam’s apple.

The man stumbled back clutching his throat, and he drove his foot into the unprotected groin, ramming his knee into the side of the face, when he doubled over and his heavy set body hit the ground.

Raito looked around wildly, he needed to get out.

A patron walked in and stood stock still, damp towel clutched to his chest.

‘Is there another exit out of the gym?’

‘P-pass the Jacuzzi, b-behind the massage rooms,’ he answered, eyes glued to the groaning man on the floor.

‘Which door!’ he shouted.

Raito disappeared through the door the shaking finger pointed to.

************************

‘Where’s, Russian?’ said Mello as he searched the screen.

‘Russian’s, down,’ the thick voice cracked through the headset. ‘Dislocated jaw and possible ruptured testicles. Longman, well, if he walks without crutches, that’ll be a miracle. Not such a walk in the park after all. Your fucking intelligence is highly questionable.’

‘He’s on the second floor and descending. Over.’

His fingers typed frantically as he tried to find him. ‘Matt, I thought you said he was just a fund raising Toff?’

‘Well, unless he’s raising funds for the school of Jeet Kune Do, something’s definitely off.’

‘The Hotel Manager’s going to have words. We’ll have to start preparations for a move,’ said Mello.

‘Or, just buy the place,’ said Matt, shrugging.

Watari entered bringing with him several coats. ‘Why did he leave?’ 

Matt shook his head. ‘I’ve no clue, he was with me for a few, then he was with L for about four or five minutes, then he came bolting out the room.’

L shuffled over, face stoic and giving nothing away. ‘He wanted access to the complete files, I said he couldn’t. He got upset and left.’

Matt and Mello mirrored a reproachful look.

Watari agreed with that look. ‘Are you sure it was that simple?’

‘No. He was agitated before he came in.' He turned to Matt. 'What were you discussing before he asked to see the files?’

Matt thought for a moment. ‘Coding.’

‘Coding?’

‘Yeah, seemed interested in the background coding, on the computer.’

************************

Raito ran through the second floor corridor colliding with a few guests. If he could just make the stairs at the end of the corridor.

His thoughts were lost to inexplicable pain, as he was struck in his back, and he arched in agony, as another blow followed. His face hit the floor as he went down, and droplets of blood fell from his mouth when he struggled to get up. The few people around them screamed and ran.

He recognised the man from the stairs.

Dazed and scared, he randomly kicked out, and a huge foot stomped down on his calf, and his cry of pain was short lived before the boot stomped down again. Flailing on his back, he manically struck with is free leg. Catching him, the man lost his balance, leg frozen in position: a pressure point hit. Raito struggled to pull himself up, his back wailing as he dragged himself away. 

************************

‘Shit! Where’s Aiber?’ Mello flicked feverishly through the screens. ‘Oh Mate! He’s down!’

************************

‘Has he left?’ He breathed down the phone, his side burning and his head swimming with the signs of concussion. He had found solace in the back washroom, a cleaning area filled with mops, buckets and rags. He knew he didn’t have long.

‘He left with Touta as soon as you did. He’s safe?’

He sagged with relief against the wall. ‘My father’s on the way, their looking for Reiki Laksani. I’ll call back when I can.’ He disconnected the call.

Ryuuzaki had called him his lover _._ Chou-Nan and Raito’s relationship was a contrived one. They had set the story of them being childhood friends, who became best friends as they grew older. A sibling relationship was too dangerous if they wanted to remain hidden. Reiki Laksani was the name his brother had chosen; only Dr Hanoi knew the truth.

Why then, had he emphasised lover, and given this false unverified information to his father? The entire dynamic of his life had been turned upside down for what? What was the reason for it all? It seemed as if Ryuuzaki's actions were callous, if not vindictive in nature, guided by a sense of exactitude, on a sliding scale to inaccuracy.

The phone rang, the number withheld. He pressed the call button.

‘Are you running because you have something to hide?’ Ryuuzaki asked. 

Raito ended the call, removed the SIM card from the phone, and crushed it under his foot. He deftly removed the battery and shoved it in his pocket. 

He looked around tentatively instead of trying to run for the exit. He watched as staff left from a small side door near the dryers. He limped to the door that read, ‘staff’ and entered.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ An elderly man asked. He was acutely aware of the attire, which did not have a staff tag or hotel logo. 

‘I had a bit of a nosebleed,’ said Raito.

The staff member gave a curt nod. 'I'll see what I can do, sir.'

He looked around the simple room, four chairs, two tables, flat screen on the wall, and a drinks machine in the corner. Then elation as he saw the exit at the back of the room. He couldn’t move fast enough, and before he touched the handle, the crash of a brutalised door, saw two men barrelling inside. 

Raito lunged through the door, straight into the alley, cars beeping as he darted across the road, hoping the night sky would shield him.

The rhythmic hitting of his shoes on the pavements as he ran down a side path and laboured over a fence, his back angry at the move. His awkward fall on the other side, caused him to still, as pain tore through his body. He lay there, breaths shallow and body shaking.

He heard the pounding of several feet. 

He closed his eyes. The crackling of radios, curses followed by threats of bodily harm, could be heard as the stampede receded.

He remained still.

Opening his eyes and looking around the small back garden, he stalled when he saw small eyes peering at him through the window. He put his finger to his mouth to signify keeping quiet. His eyes screwed tightly as he tried to stand against the throbbing in his body, and limped slowly to the next fence. He struggled to climb over, but did it several times more. The CCTV between the two main streets meant that he had to keep to the back alleys and backyards.

Several fences over, he bent down grimacing, and turned off the tap. He had washed his hands and face with a small hose he found in one of the yards. He turned his jumper inside out and dragged his fingers through his hair.

Looking around for any signs of a looming presence, he could see the lights in the distance, and he made his way carefully to the night market.

************************

They had retrieved his bag from the eighth floor, but they refrained from going through his stuff, as they had yet to come up with a plausible reason to suspect him of anything other than not knowing where the principal was. L had not been forthcoming with anything other than speculation.

Watari sat with him on the enclosed balcony. The night sky clear, with clouds on the horizon. A fitting analogy of his current situation.

It was warm in the enclosure, but he needed that heat to create an all consuming flush, to mimic how it felt...felt to make an error.

He had underestimated Raito, and in doing so, he had made a mistake.

He rarely made mistakes.

‘I suspect things didn’t go to plan.’

‘Is that a statement?’

‘It’s an observation.’

Watari sat in quiet reservation. His smart trousers and shirt taking the place of his uniform. ‘What is it, Lauciene?’

He pulled on the hair at the side of his ear and for a moment, allowed himself the freedom to wish for the smell of vanilla and cinnamon.

‘Well, for one thing,’ Watari continued due to the lack of response, ‘I think Aiber and his men were too heavy handed. Did you give them authorisation to use excessive force?’

‘No.’ He hadn’t.

‘But you did nothing to prevent it, nor did you do anything to stop it when it began.’

‘Another observation?’

‘No, that one was a statement.’

The hot chocolate and eclairs lay untouched by his side.

Like a wave, a shiver washed over his body, and he wondered if it was a psychosomatic response to this predicament. If he felt the bite of the lie on his tongue before he spewed the word ‘lover’ he would deny the existence of the lie. Yet, when he saw the fear sweep across his eyes, turning them from granite to beseeching at the mention of his father going to Youkoso Oka Teien, he would admit he saw genuine, sincere and unguarded terror, and would have reneged on that lie.

‘Matt isn’t too happy about his treatment. But, he tends to favour those he feels are less able to defend themselves, not a surprise really,’ reasoned Watari.

No, it really wasn't.

The faint sound of the television could be heard in the background. Matt had settled down now, but he had made it abundantly clear what he thought of this situation. The entire building heard what he thought of the situation.

‘He visited or had meetings with all his donators. All of them are dead. Those same victims had breaches in their system. He mentions looking at financial data, and on further investigation, that’s exactly what occurred, hacking into financial information. The interest in the coding and the fact that the computer in the other room is part of a project he was heavily involved in, and following the recovery nine of them, one of them has the same program as the one Matt and Mello are working on. Coincidence? Where is Mr Yamoai? Who is Reiki? And Why does he fear his father? 

‘Well, is he a murderer or a hacker?’

‘It’s better to ask if he has a motive, maybe for both?’

‘Well...does he?’

‘The children in his school. He cares for them. Maybe, he finds a way into the Child Protection database or Register, finds those who are financially wealthy, seeks out donations in the form of retribution, both monetarily and with their lives; possibly with the help of Reiki: judge, juror and executioner. But there is so much more. This is the tip of a tremendous iceberg.’

He looked to the busy city below, wondering where he was. The CCTV had proved a failure. He knew the system well, as if he lived his life off the grid before. His ease of disappearance, the inability to track his phone.

‘But that is speculation, I cannot say what he is. But I know what he is not.’

‘And what is that?’ Watari asked.

‘Alone.’


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of past child neglect and swearing.
> 
> Again, the Devil is in the detail.
> 
> Enjoy 😊

#  Chapter Fourteen

After words had been exchanged, the room remained solemn.

It was just after 9:30pm., and lost in the expanse of the room, L stood. ‘There are too many connections for it to be arbitrary.’

‘We need to establish what the motivation is first, and if we have enough evidence to prove he’s in fact cyber jacker the killer, or both. To be honest, his psychological profile is a sixty five per cent match for the killer,’ said Mello, as he felt the same dismay, he watched overtake Matt’s face, as the timer jumped back 5 hours.

‘Why are you pushing so hard?’ Matt demanded; fingers rushed trying to find a way to capture the lost time. ‘Let’s just find out what we need by talking to the school, parents, and his father for goodness’ sake, he may be involved in this shit too.’

His attitude had soured since the incident, more so, as they had entered into the grey area of ends justifying the means. _‘This is not the wild west!’_ he had shouted earlier, when they informed him that Raito had got away. _‘It’s not a choice between dead or alive!’_

Mello kept his focus on the screen. ‘He could just be an angry man with murderous intentions. Sometimes, the reason is really just that simple.’

L’s eyes drifted to Mello. His pragmatic attitude meant that, yes, he agreed that they were heavy handed, but then pointed out that they had also ended up on the wrong side, of what he would call, success, with two men down and Raito miles away. 

Maybe he was pushing because he was at a dead end with Raito. He had general records, but no offshore accounts, no pilfering from the school funds, or money laundering. In fact, funds were going _into_ the school’s own investment account with relatively decent shares in numerous Unit Trusts and Open-Ended Investment Companies.

For want of a better word, he was clean.

Matt fumed in his seat, as he wondered again about the rationale L used to justify his actions. This case seems to have brought out an indecisive side to him, a quirk or personality trait, he had not had the pleasure of encountering, and he’d definitely thought he’d seen them all.

And yeah, he had his own idiosyncrasies, he’s not going to deny it, he's no angel. ADHD, Anger management and behaviour issues, where plastered all over his and Mello’s school files. All the labels that they could think of, the school threw at them.

Mello the ‘tramp’, that’s what the kids had called him at school. He’d arrive at school with clothes with the same stains from the previous week, his trousers swinging at his ankles, and his shoes leaning aggressively at the heel.

His mother, he would say, would forget to feed him, wash his clothes, pack him a lunch, or pay for his school meals. She seemed to suffer from a chronic case of forgetfulness, as she would forget to feed him every single day.

At the time, he couldn’t help, he wanted to, but couldn’t. His position was no better. But he didn’t suffer the beatings Mel did. He would have to have someone around for that.

So through mutual suffering, they had become fast friends, and during the evenings, and leaner days, they would tag team it to steal food, scrounge school meals, and eat from bins. They grew up fast: maturing in ways they shouldn’t have. 

He remembered the academy they joined, ten minutes down the road: a tired grey building with concrete playgrounds, and asbestos ceilings that were still undergoing removal some fifteen years after their discovery. The lick of paint on the outside did little to hide the horrors of leaky pipes, peeling paint, broken radiators and various water stains on the inside.

Matt's thoughts morphed back into the here and now, and the real context of his situation: the vast room, the skyline and the very tangible solid reality that he was here, in this room, a million nightmares from his past. 

The screen tingled slightly under his fingers as he touched it, appreciating its significance. Yeah, they had come a long way from eating out of dustbins, and he remembers with clarity their first meeting with Watari. 

They, like the rest of Year 7 in their first week of school, had to take English, maths and science tests. The algorithms on these online tests, would generate questions based on your previous answer; correct answers created more challenging questions. Their test had lasted over an hour and a half, while the other students had left, after forty-five minutes. The last question was based on first year degree Maths and a reading age of 18+.

What else would they do with their time, without a computer, phone, laptop or television?-Read. The libraries were free, and they would use the computers to do homework, reach places they couldn’t physically be, delve deep into a world with no limits on access to information.

He remembered they both received a dodgy letter from someone called Mr Q. Wammy, a few weeks later from some school in Winchester, inviting him, and his, _'parent/s/carers_ ' for an 'Open morning'. 

His mother hadn't opened mail in years. That was his job. He had told Mello to look out for the same letter. He had reasoned that because they did the same tests, and received similar results, it would mean they could go to the Open morning together. 

It took guts for Mel to steal the letter addressed to his mother, considering the repercussions he would feel for weeks from her boyfriend. But the pride that he had in him, ,when he pulled out this slightly crumpled envelope with a black cloistered 'W' in the corner from his ripped rucksack, was off the charts.

'Here, I think this is it,' he had said, handing it over. 'If not, then I'll just sneak it back.'

That was the day he realised, Mello had trusted him enough to take that risk. They were now in this together.

They had to forge their mother’s signatures and return it, accepting the invitation. They didn’t have any money for a return postage, so they had spent two days looking for spare change on the school grounds and the streets when they walked to and from school.

They were not going on this trip because of some laughable glossy brochure, which had aerial shots of no place that they could find on google maps, with a school that apparently didn’t have any children-no photos. No They were enticed purely by the menu that boasted a three course meal with clear photos of each one.

They had met, _‘Please call me, Watari’_ , at the school gates, having travelled there by bus. Mello had a purple eye with a hint if green and yellow that day, from a fight with a Year 10 student. Sure, he came out worse for wear, and had been suspended for three days, but with a Year 10 student in plaster with a broken wrist, his reputation went up one hundred fold. Even with his mum's boyfriend.

That day, they had entered into a world that they only read about in books, but truthfully, any school would be impressive in comparison to theirs, but the tennis courts, pool, study centre were amazing, but most importantly, the technology the students were given access to, was out of this world.

Then they met him.

He remembers the three of them turning a corner in the maze of a building, and there he stood, lean, piercing and tall.

‘See if you can make these work,’ he had said, shoving two iPads at them and a business card, ‘by calling the number on the card. Then I will get you a laptop or computer each, your choice.’

They were both dumfounded, and Mello had turned to him with a watery smile in disbelief. For him, he didn’t know what to do with a gift. He’d never received one before. He had just nodded and sniffed, his emotions all over the place.

‘Make sure they both eat first,’ he had said to Watari before walking away-bare feet dirty at the souls. That day, they were allowed to eat whatever they wanted. One of the best days of their lives. 

‘If we were rich, I’d like to go there. That school’s so cool,’ Mello had said, looking through the window as the scenes passed by too quickly on the journey back home.

‘Me too.’ He had said, handing him a sandwich he had stolen. 

The next day, Friday evening, Mello had knocked on his front door in no more than a t-shirt, shorts, bare feet, and shivering from the rain, his face and cut lip tantamount to what he had endured. He had eaten the last slice of stale bread and his mother's boyfriend decided it was unacceptable. Mello hadn't eaten since their return from Winchester. 

Matt gave him some clothes just a little less gritty than the ones he had on, and warmed some tea on the stove. His mother wasn’t in, would be home at some point, and probably wouldn’t know or care, if she had an extra child in the house.

He had taken the lone piece of cheese from the fridge, and tomato ketchup and given it to Mello. ‘I’ve had something, you have this, okay.’

His mother hadn't returned since Wednesday and Mello's family hadn't looked for him. 

On Sunday morning, they called the number on the business card.

In the car, L had given them a box of doughnuts. There were a dozen in each box.

‘You made it work,’ he said. ‘Now, let’s see what we can do about those computers.’

Watari's cough from the room down the corridor, was his cue to get back to work. He sat up straight, ghosting his fingers over the keys as the last memories faded.

Agreed, they all had their share of quirks, goodness knows Mello has some serious, we-need-to get-someone-professional-to-talk-about-this type of issue, and, yes of course, his nineteen to Mello’s twenty years, means they're still young and stupid, and they had put themselves in situations that had cost them dearly, but they were smart in other ways. Brilliant in fact. 

He felt for the chain around his neck.

They were doing better.

Much better.

Aiber’s voice suddenly erupted on the open channel.

‘Got a sighting of someone creeping round some backyards from two recent phone calls to the police. We’ll check it out. Over.’

************************

Raito made his way back to the hotel.

As people entered the building, he deliberately bumped the arm of an elderly woman, who then dropped her clutch bag partially secured under her arm, with some of its contents rolling out as it struck the floor. 

‘O mój Boże!’ She screeched in Polish.

 _‘Please forgive me madam! Please excuse my clumsiness.’_ His reply was soft, sincere and perfect Polish.

‘Your Polish is very good, young man,’ she gushed surprised.

 _‘You’re too kind, madam. I studied in Poland for several years in the...’_ he continued.

They both entered the hotel, as if old friends. 

He took the stairs to the third floor, after parting company and wishing her well, but remained alert to the CCTV. 

His change of clothes, bought cash from the night market, made up a beanie hat, jeans, hooded top and trainers. 

He headed for the first floor coffee bar with Wi-Fi and internet access. He could only carry out this manoeuvre logged on to the same system as Ryuuzaki’s connection. 

************************

‘That’s a negative from, Aiber,’ said Mello, disconnecting the call.

‘We may have some luck with ‘Cyber Jacker,’ Matt, said somewhat elated, ‘the program has jumped to a shorter timeframe, so in effect could be broken by tomorrow afternoon by the latest.’

L crouched on the bedroom floor, looking at the scattered papers he had accumulated about Raito in the last hour. His birth, school, family, relatives, and hobbies, but what was most interesting was Raito’s stay in St. Luke’s International Hospital in Tsukiji, district in Chuo. The hospital admitted him in November, 16th 2008, from what L could fathom, a broken leg and arm, while playing in a shed near his home. The details were obscure, but the glaring obvious issue was the blood type, noted for Raito as A. In the meantime, he would try to piece together the year 2008, which was proving a critical time in the Yagami life: Raito in hospital and Chou-Nan to a mental institute.

He heard loud voices from the next room.

‘What the fuck! This cannot be happening!’ said Matt, as he frantically tapped the keyboard.

‘I can’t log in!’ said Mello as he carried his laptop toward them, hitting the return key.

‘No, no, no! We’ve been breached!’

Mello's face reflected his disbelief. ‘No, fucking way!’

‘Yes, fucking way! look at the prompt!’ Matt said stabbing his finger at the screen.

On the screen, a box flashed, ‘Data Transfer’. 

‘Shit, shit, shit! I’ve tried blocking the connection, but it’s not taking, it’s a ‘drain link’, and whoever managed to straddle the system, will have sole access to all the files.’

‘How the fuck did they do that?’ breathed Mello.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, L pressed a single number. ‘I believe we have been ambushed.’

‘How’s this possible?’ Watari asked, as he exited his room talking on the phone with another section of their technical team.

‘Is there any damage to the intermediary server?’ said L, focusing on Matt.

‘No. No damage at present,’ he said.

Mello eyes suddenly popped. ‘Is this ‘Cyber Jacker’?’ 

‘Not sure, the program is not…’

His voice caught as the screen went blank. The message read 'Data Transfer Complete'.

‘Everything’s gone,’ said Mello.

‘Everything and more,’ said L.

‘What do you mean?’ Mello was almost afraid to hear it could get any worse.

‘Solar Flare,’ he said replacing the phone in his pocket.

Mello sighed in relief. There was a trace on the data, a solar flare. ‘How long?’

'ten minutes.’

************************

He, sighed, and mentally patted himself on the shoulder. He had taken all of the information off the server remotely.

He would not ‘store’ the information, but hold it in a kind of suspension drive, which would allow him access, without effectively ‘docking’ the data and leaving a trail. 

The ‘Solar Flare’ was easily detected, but almost missed. It would have latched onto his encryption like a limpet, and held on, until it exploded like a solar burst, so every Cyber law enforcement officer and cyber bounty hunter, would have the means to track and find him. 

Ten years in prison was the mandatory start for penance. 

He touched his forehead, hidden under the black beanie. It came away wet. He wiped his hand on his dark hoodie.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he eased out of the chair, keeping his face angled; smiling to the concierge as he walked past reception.

It was amazing how much he was able to just fall into a routine that he hadn’t used in years.

Now, he needed a phone.

He spotted a reasonable candidate a few minutes later. A man on his mobile talking animatedly, his attention on his conversation. 

It was dark. It made following him easy.

The man had finished talking and placed the phone in his coat pocket.

Ratio came up behind him and deliberately knocked into him. 

The bump allowed him to slip his hand into his pocket as he pretended to grab him trying to balance himself. The man instantly tried to aid him against the fall.

He apologised and started to walk away.

However, the man immediately reached into his pocket; realised the phone was gone, and knew what had happened. He gave chase and started to yell. However, with the darkness and lack of fitness, it meant he stopped chasing him long before he disappeared into the back streets.

He found shelter in a shop doorway, removed his wallet and a small plastic bag. Inside the bag, three SIM cards. He knew that knowing the IMEI number of the mobile phone, if its stolen, could be blocked from the network. He knew he didn't have much time, to use the phone.

‘Goddam…breadcrumbs…’ said Chou-Nan.

‘Are you safe?’ 

‘Yes…at the…old place.’

‘Did anyone follow you?’

‘No, from what…I could tell,’ said Chou-Nan.

‘They had a program running a de-coder, with a timeframe of three days. Hopefully, I have given us a little more time.’

‘They have…you as…a possible lead in this case...they are...not very...bright,’ stated Chou-Nan.

‘Well, I have the smartest brother in the world. So, I’m not worried.’ _I’m terrified._

‘I…know…I keep telling…you that,’ said Chou-Nan.

‘Is Touta with you?’

‘Yes,’ said his brother, voice on edge.

‘I'll contact you when I can.’ 

Ending the call, he looked around at the empty street, the clouds had thickened, and he could feel the light drizzle of rain on his face.

He looked to his right where the end of the street lay ahead, and he pulled up the hood and drew the strings together. 

With his head down, he walked with purpose. 

He needed to find somewhere to read the complete files. 


	16. Chapter 15

#  Chapter Fifteen

The swish of water as cars passed by, only served to strengthen his awareness of the dank conditions; the continuous stream of thudding against his hood, seemed to be in sync with the pulsating at his temples.

The parade of fluorescent signs, distorted in the reflection of the pavement, were garish and uninviting; contrary to their luminous objective. Rubbish bags littered the streets, people talking in hushed tones doing ‘business’ in doorways, welcome signs luring those with deep pockets and salacious minds, and dubious 'A' rated restaurants hanging week old meat in their windows, all served to increase his growing tension. 

He kept his eyes low until he found a small, though loosely termed, internet café: obscure and inconspicuous. A young man sat behind a desk, flicking through his phone, indifferent to his presence as he entered.

He paid for his time and settled in a seat near the backdoor.

The file was in a subfolder with two others. The first file was Case number 09121466: an open case on a sexual predator and murderer, the case had run two years before they passed it to L. The second file, Case number 09121477, and open case on the murder of four family members burned in a house fire. No electrical faults, non-smokers, and a faulty fire alarm. This happened six times in the last ten years, with the same umbrella company of landlords.

Then he found file number 09121492, Akuma.

**Victim No.** | **Name** | **Location** | **DOD**  
---|---|---|---  
1 | Chikako Yano | Tokyo (Adachi) | 2011  
2 | Hana Hanabusa | Kanto Region | 2011  
3 | Kamei Obuchi | Kanto Region | 2011  
4 | Miho Itoh | Nagano | 2012  
5 | Reiko Endo | Nagano | 2012  
6 | Saki Itagaki | Shizukoka | 2013  
7 | Takara Mitsuya | Shizukoka | 2013  
8 | Yuki Choshi | Chiba | 2014  
9 | Tsugu Kamon | Chiba | 2014  
10 | Sada Mori | Chiba | 2014  
11 | Tetsu Nataga | Nagano | 2015  
12 | Chika Isobe | London | 2016  
13 | Shige Okita | London | 2016  
14 | Nari Shobo | London | 2016  
15 | Tomo Tamura | London | 2016  
16 | Fuji Ukiyo | Kyoto | 2020  
17 | Ukon Munsauri | Tokyo (Minato) | 2020  
18 | Akaito Matuon | Tokyo (Minato) | 2020  
19 | Chion Lontai | Tokyo (Minato) | 2020  
20 | Katsuo Hantori | Tokyo (Minato) | 2020  
21 | Mrs Arding-Waoin | Tokyo | 2020  
  
Ryuuzaki had withheld the information on the murders in London. He was not surprised. There had also been a witness who had admitted seeing a man in the early hours of the morning. Again, something he was not privy too. However, the photo they managed to capture from the CCTV footage, though grainy, had undergone Face Analysis, deductions made using statistics and demographic details on population traits and characteristics, and had narrowed it down to East Asian.

This omitting of information was getting old very quickly.

After a while, he rubbed his eyes and tentatively circled his head. His back was throbbing from the bruise that rubbed against his clothes when he moved and the pain had anchored itself to the base of his neck. The scab on his forehead was mixing with the fibres from his hat. It had actually aided in stemming the flow of blood, but meant the fibres sticking to his scab pulled whenever he turned his head. 

Clicking down he suddenly paused:

 **File** : Yagami Raito and Yagami Chou-Nan.

His fingers trembled slightly. Why would they have information on his brother?

The first documents were photos of them at various ages, he paused on the one when they were six years old; dressed in the same blue t-shirt and blue shorts; looking nothing alike. He remembered that day, both of them running around the garden and his mother taking lots of photos. He could remember her laughing at them chasing each other for no reason, other than they could.

He had forgotten that amidst the turmoil, there truly lay a solid happy foundation. Yet, why was this important to an investigation? It seemed that, like criminals, they were being analysed: profiled.

Another photo. His graduation. He had changed from the six year old, to an older detached almost reticent individual with a melancholy air. He had lost his brother a few years prior, and though finding him soon after, his despondency was clear on his face: he had realised that life functioned on half truths. 

Next were graduate certificates, a magazine article, one where he had become one of the youngest graduates of To-Oh University. This was accompanied by a photo of his father and him, standing side by side.

The following document was a scan of their birth certificates. However, the next document, saw him pause at a theoretical report based on the events surrounding their births.

He clicked back to the certificates and hospital notes. He could see that some of the information was missing, while others were unintelligible. It was the same for Chou-Nan’s.

The conclusion of the theoretical report into _'The Exploration in the Heteropaternal Superfecundation of Yagami R and Yagami C'_ , found that the anomalies analogous to both YR and YC, succeeded in providing evidence for _‘A possibility of Heteropaternal Superfecundation (HS)_ , which arises in about 2.4% of the number of dizygotic twins born yearly’.

He sat quietly, digesting the statement, and scrolled to the summation: _‘93% chance that Yagami Raito and Yagami Chou-Nan were Heteropaternal Superfecundation births.’_

His saliva caught in his throat as he swallowed and coughed loudly. He couldn’t stop.

‘Everything okay, sir?’ The young man at the front desk asked, mobile phone at the ready to call an ambulance...or police.

‘Yes...I’m...fine,’ he managed to croak, as he took deep swallows from the bottle of water, he bought from the vending machine. His face, almost vermillion to his weeping copper eyes, eased as he worked through the last spluttering coughs, and swallowed a few times, to ensure that the process worked, and the harsh drag of his hand across his cheeks, left behind crooked streams of tears.

The shudder as his elbows hit the table, and the sudden pain in his scalp was welcomed as he fisted, pulled and scrunched up the material that captured his hairs underneath, as hard and as tight as he could. 

His mind whirled. What is this in relation too? When did they find this out? Why did they need this information? How did they find it? Who decided they needed this information and how is it beneficial to this case?

He wanted to go back three minutes, three hours, three days, back to the festival, back to last year. He wanted to unsee what he had seen, wanted to deny its existence, the suggestive scenarios that lay behind it, deny his mother, deny his father... deny he existed as a photo on a user interface for everyone to see. Did they know? Did they all know when they sat there eating with him? But...

He suddenly sat up.

This...this could all be lies. Another way to twist the truth. This is probably what they wanted him to see, wanted him to find. This entire thing could be a plot to get him to show himself as the hacker. Maybe he just walked into a trap. Maybe they’re here now.

He suddenly turned around, breath shallow and face heated, eyes distraught and searching, waiting for the crash of the door as they stormed in.

After a few moments of nothing, and another suspicious look from the front desk, he turned back to the screen.

He stared without looking, thinking to another time and place, as a stream of memories, which he prodded with hesitancy, invaded his thoughts. School photos where they had looked so different, not just their height difference, Chou-Nan being at least a foot taller, but different colouring, nature, and habits. 

He was moving before he had time to register the change in scenery.

‘Excuse me, do you sell phone cards?’ he said, trying to sound less traumatised and more charming as he almost staggered to the front.

‘500 yen,’ he answered, placing it on the desk.

The cuff of his top was streaked with dirt after he finished wiping down the phone in the back: a single cubicle that had seen better days.

‘Chou-Nan?’ 

_Something was wrong_. ‘Here…little one,’ said Chou-Nan.

His eyes softened. ‘You call me that when you think I need comfort.' _I need it._

Chou-Nan breathed. ‘Are…you…coming soon?’

‘Yes, soon,’ he said, more despondent than he wanted to sound.

‘I…look forward …to you being here...being safe.’

He could feel the drip fall from his nose, and he wiped it with his sleeve. ‘Make sure you plan our trip. Just you and me.’

‘Just...you and me?’

'Yes, just us two.' he swallowed thickly.

The doubt was evident. 'Without Touta?'

 _Please don't ask again. I'm barely holding on._ ‘Just us...brothers, okay.’

The reply was quiet, unsure, ‘O...okay, Ito.’

It was silent between them for a few moments, then the line was disconnected. 

His grip was firm as he pressed the phone to his forehead; the soft thuds could be heard as he hit it repeatedly.

What would he have said? _Thud,_ What would be the point? _Thud_. No, this was not something he would discuss- ever discuss with his brother. _Thud_. Because he was exactly that, his brother. _Thud._ Now and always, and no one-no one, would change his mind. _Thud._ Not these files, _Thud._ not Ryuuzaki, _Thud._ Not L, his father, no one. _Thud._ He was and would always be his brother. Not half-brothers or any other variation.

He was his!

His fist balled as his inner turmoil turned into molten lava. His response was swift: the phone dangling before it latched onto the receiver, as he stomped to the computer, and the files quickly pooled into the delete box.

 _‘Are you sure you want to delete.’_ The prompt flickered at him.

His finger hovered over the mouse.

His eyebrows creased with indecision...then smoothed out with complete calm and decisiveness.

_Click._

The tiny sound was definitive.

He blinked at the screen. As the information was not 'docked' the deletion meant it could not be retrieved. He had tampered with evidence-L’s evidence. If that didn’t get him a good fifteen years, they were going extremely light on him.

He scrolled down.

What could he do now? What would it take to get Ryuuzaki and L off his back?

Looking over the documents, the victims did have something in common: the school.

However, there was something they were missing, something that connected the victims to the killer. Someone who knew all the victims before the murder, who knew exactly where they would be that night. 

He knew what he had to do.

The irony was painfully obvious-work with L to find out.

************************

‘Found him, Woiakon Street, a phone was stolen by a young boy in a hooded top. Same as the one on the CCTV at the hotel approximately 40 minutes ago. Our prodigal son returns,’ said Matt.

‘Aiber, retrieve him with, Mello.’

‘L, you know this could get ugly,’ Mello whispered, as an aside.

‘Unharmed…if possible,’ was L’s addendum, calling after Aiber. 

Three operative were working alongside them, currently two floors below. If it was true that Raito had in fact pulled off this feat of ingenuity, then it could put him firmly in the spotlight as the Hacker?

The computer he used was identified and removed, however, they had yet to find out how he did it. He had left nothing traceable behind.

Matt seemed enamoured and had stated he would visit him every day in prison, so he could get all his tricks, if, it was in fact him that stole their data. _‘Well, it’s not as if he's going to use it in there, he could give it to me, so to speak, for safe keeping, 'cause when he comes out in about sixty years he might not remember much,’_ he had pointed to Watari, _‘Old age and all that.’_

L had stood watching the CCTV, the hooded top, the lithe frame. The ease with which he entered, the confidence of his exit.

It was him, he had no doubt, but solid concrete evidence goes further than circumstantial. Accusing the son of the Chief of the NPA, required indisputable evidence. 

For now, he wanted his files, and Raito knew something.

...or he knew everything.


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start to put the pieces of the puzzle together: Takian Yamoai and Ryuuzaki.  
> Another favourite chapter to write.  
> Enjoy. ♥

#  Chapter Sixteen 

The rain caught his face before he pulled the hood over his head. He gave a cursory glance to oncoming traffic as he negotiated the road to the modest shop across the street, where the low lights and strategically placed posters, obscured the interior.

The bell gave a gentle ring as he entered.

Readjusting the hood, and pulling the hat down, he browsed the aisles. Most of what he could see are banned items that would either gain him jail time or a hefty fine, but his survival instinct was on edge and screamed life over legal, so protection right now was paramount.

He examined the assortment of Ninja stars that proclaimed their danger by their six pointed edges, foreboding, against a black velvet background. Did he really want his stay in prison extended for possession of a deadly weapon? The irony was, that prior to the data theft, they had less than reasonable cause to charge him with a crime-any crime. Now, he was staring down the barrel of a possible grade A felony: stealing official files, interfering and obstructing the course of justice, assault, hacking, as well as tagging him as a possible serial killer. That would be a long and damming opening statement in any court hearing, and with Japan’s ninety nine percent conviction rate, he would not see freedom for a long time.

He eventually found what he needed nestled in the reduced to clear basket, just under the butterfly knives. 

With a saturated hood, and his head bent against the elements, he could do little against its onslaught as he headed for the bus station, warily pointed out to him by the burly man at the till.

His throat itched, and his hand was briefly warmed by a coughing fit, when a sudden heavy weight struck his entire left side as a car rushed by. He sniffed, then squelched with each step, as he turned left into a brightly lit side-street.

His whole body vibrated for a moment and he hunched further. It would be warm in Italy, his mind suddenly supplied.

He knew it was an involuntary mental defence mechanism, using his contrasting memories to crash through his conscious and tumultuous states of anxiety; probing him to find solace in the past, to ease the inner turmoil of the present.

Pensive, he tentatively probed the memories of their trips to the open markets, late evening meals near the beach, wading in the pool, and the villa overlooking miles and miles of green lush land.

What if they went back? What if he could organise their departure from Japan and back to Europe? He-he could put his teaching prospects on hold and he could organise flights for all three of them-now, tonight.

He started to jog.

He could organise the transfer of funds to his other three accounts; book flights within the next hour, they could meet at the airport for an early morning flight. Yes, he could do it. It was a desperate move, and he was conscious of his inner voice, 'when we're desperate, we make desperate decisions'. But he felt the elation, and his jog became a determined run.

Without question, they could lead a very comfortable life, even if he never worked again. He had wealth that was vast, learning out of necessity regarding investing, transferring and gifting funds, switching accounts: leaving broken trails so his father, if he tried, would be unable to trace his accounts, especially those set-up for regular treatments and therapies for Chou-Nan. And the school had also benefited from his enterprising ways, by receiving dividends from mutual funds he set up in the school's early years.

His chest tightened.

This was the school that he had built with Takian Yamoai.

He exhaled, and a mist danced fleetingly in front his face.

His grandfather.

************************

**_November 16th, 2008_ **

The plastic felt blistering hot when he answered the phone and was told Raito was in an accident.

‘I’ll be down to stay with Chou-Nan, while you’re at the hospital with Raito,’ he had said, hastily grabbing his keys and wallet.

‘No. We’ve already organised things here,’ Soichiro stated, agitation entrenched in his voice.

‘What...what hospital is Raito at?’ he asked, scrambling for a sheet of paper and pen.

‘I can’t talk now, so I’ll message you the details.’

The phone line died before he could ask anything further.

Days after, he was still waiting.

He called several times, only to leave message, 'Please let me know what’s happening with the boys,' after message, 'I have a right to know what’s going on with my grandsons,' after message, 'I haven't heard anything from you, are they...are they?' He couldn't finish the sentence.

He received a terse text.

‘Things are in hand, respect our decision to wait until they're settled.’

Finally, his gut feeling won out, and he turned up unexpectedly to their home, rang the doorbell and waited. He depressed the button and held it for several seconds, twice more, when there was no response. He had peered through the window, when he thought he saw movement, but no one came to the door. He looked through the letter box, and the light from the television flickered in the background. He then called, but the call went straight to voicemail-without ringing. He finally tried the spare key, given in case of emergencies, but it didn't work, the lock had been changed.

He had left with a sinking feeling, that something was disturbingly wrong.

That evening, he received a text that stated: ‘come over next week Thursday.’

His excitement for seeing his grandsons, meant that he hadn’t been prepared for the treatment he received when he had been greeted at the front door a week later.

‘What happened? How are the boys?’ he said, not bothering to take off his coat, his gut feeling doing somersaults.

'Come in first,' he said, giving a brief look outside as if checking if anyone had seem him, before closing the door.

‘I tried to use the key, the last time I was here, think you may have been in the back doing something,' he lied, 'but it doesn’t seem to work?’

‘We changed the lock after the accident.’

‘Did something happen with an intruder?’ he asked, flustered that someone may have hurt the boys.

‘No, look, you can’t stay long, he’s resting.’

His steps faltered as he followed him deeper into the home. ‘What do you mean I can’t stay long? I haven’t seen them in weeks, I want to see how they are.’

Something was off.

‘Raito’s upstairs, I’ll take you to him.’

His son was exhibiting behaviour he would easily class as suspicious, with one hand grasping the banister, while the other, deep in his pockets, relentlessly fidgeted with what sounded like keys.

The room was bright, but the dust particles still thick in the air, alerted him to the fact that the blinds had just been opened, with a majority of the dust settling on the desk underneath.

Raito was asleep on the bed, his face a palate of scratches and stitches, his arm and leg in a cast.

Agonised by the sight, his brow knotted in empathy and anguish.

‘How’s he doing?’ he managed to croak.

‘Better. Just sleeps a lot.’

‘What happened?’

‘He had an accident, fell from the roof of the shed.’

His forehead furrowed in confusion. ‘B-but the shed isn’t that high, its only a few feet at best.’

‘How the hell am I supposed to know, that's what happened!’ 

The heat from the fire in his son’s eyes was one he hadn’t seen before.

‘Where’s, Chou-Nan?’ he asked, now concerned.

‘He’s gone to stay with family on Sachiko’s side for a while.’

‘But...we don’t know the family on her side? Sachiko was the only daughter and she only has one cousin who’s living in Germany. Who’s this other family member?’

He was hurt. Why hadn’t they asked him? He had room; he was only a 35 minute drive away and they had stayed with him many times before.

‘What’s their number, I want to speak to my grandson?’

‘Sachiko has it, I’ll ask her to message it to you.’

‘Oh, you mean like the last time I asked, and I’m still waiting for that message.’

Raito stirred slightly, but he remained asleep.

Soichiro straightened to his full height. ‘I’ll see you out.’ It was a statement of intent and it was clear it was non-negotiable.

Leaving, he observed that both Sachiko and Sayu weren’t home, and the house seemed eerily quiet.

‘I’ll let you know when you can visit again,’ Soichiro said, as he closed the door behind him.

A week later, he had yet to receive a number from Sachiko, or talk with either of his grandsons.

Still, he had called relentlessly, and even sought guidance from child services, but he was met with cold regard, with fingers pointing to him as the one causing issues where there weren’t any. 

After a particularly disturbing nightmare, about a disembodied voice calling for help, he had phoned his son at 2:45 am., and he left a message stating that he would involve his superiors. It wasn’t a threat.

He had received a text message, stating that as their father, he had authority over his sons, ‘and where Chou-Nan is, is where he will remain,' the ominous message continued, 'and I want you to leave my family alone.'

The tears flowed freely, when he received a court ordered restraining order one week later. He had lost everything.

The rest of the year passed, with no further contact, and Hayanari threw himself into his new venture, a small school for the disadvantaged children in Chiyoda.

Late one evening, a few weeks after new year's day, when most of the staff had gone for the day, he looked up from his desk, to find a boy standing at the open office door.

His heart had jumped at the sight.

Copper eyes, hording torment and dismay, stood firm and tall as a pillar of strength. He had been watching him work, observing him...weighing him.

Yet, he could easily see the fissures; like spider veins across his face, were he had put himself together...after breaking.

‘My dad doesn’t know I’m here. He has, Chou-Nan, in a mental institute. I need to get him out.'

************************

The rain fell in thick ribbons across the sky, but he paid it little to no mind: he had a plan. He would make it to Dr Hanoi, who lived half an hour from the institution. It would take him an hour by bus and he would...

He didn’t know until it was almost upon him, as the skid of tyres tore through the sound of rain, and a car missed him by millimetres, with doors flying open.

In both surprise and haste, his legs strained and slipped, but he moved quickly without thought.

‘Man's always running,’ Mello said, pissed that they had to be out in this weather. ‘We’ve got him,’ he affirmed down his earpiece.

The man from the hotel was on him before he could run a few feet, and his hood, yanked from behind, pulled him to the ground. Then a sudden yell of pain was almost lost in the torrential downpour, as he dug the Ninja Star into the arm. There was sudden movement and for a split second, he was staring at shiny metal, then a deafening explosion erupted near his ear.

Mello had moved just in time to shove the arm. ‘What the fuck! Unharmed Aiber! Un-fucking-harmed!’ Matt shouted.

‘That little shit!’ Aiber protested trying to take aim again, as the metal star was still embedded in his arm. ‘If he tries to run, I'll break his fucking legs!’ 

He grabbed Raito and lifted him like a rag doll. 

‘Fuck!’ yelled Aiber, immediately blinded.

Mello grabbed at him, but the snap he heard from his own body, and the acrid taste and smell that hit him full in the face, ended any future action.

‘Mother-Fu…,’ said Aiber trying to get a fix on the receding figure.

Mello struggled to get the phone from his pocket.

‘Aiber’s down. Fixed it…on his jumper…you should have his…location now,’ said Mello, as he coughed up copious amounts of phlegm. Pepper spray was a bitch.

************************

‘Matt, get the rest of the team, Watari, The blue.’ 

They left in a bustle of noise and when the door closed the suite was strangely quiet.

The door suddenly opened, L ambled inside, slipped on his trainers, then left again.

************************

Raito hailed a cab, who seemed tentative to stop until Raito had frantically shaken notes at him through the window. 

Dragging his body into the cab, his mind was buzzing with the strategies of his next move as the single lane road stretched ahead of them. He removed his hat and felt the crust of the scab. He would take the taxi three quarters of the way there and take the backstreets the rest of the five miles on foot and...a round of coughing erupted from his chest; he watched as it gave the driver pause for thought, as he lightly rubbed at his chest.

‘What the hell!’ said the driver as he abruptly swerved to the left, locking the steering wheel, facing it towards the slip road to the left of the roundabout. ‘Bloody crazy drunk drivers!’ he shouted. The impact of another car, pushed them towards the embankment where the cab crashed to a stop on the verge. ‘What the hell!’ screamed the driver, getting out of the car.

Raito's door was open before the car stopped; the headlights cascading down the grassy embankment, showed an clear escape route, as he had no doubt about the cause of their diversion.

He almost caught his foot on the railing as he jumped over, his feet sinking into the damp grass of the field, slowing him slightly, as his laboured breathing, showed as puffs of bellowing vapour. A loud crack, was followed by a staggering force that knocked him to the ground. His face crumpled in pain, as he grabbed at his burning thigh. 

A hand gripped his hair, almost tearing it from his scalp, and he grabbed and pulled at the fingers. Then the hard blow to his neck had him on the ground.

He lay there, face in the dirt, energy almost spent, with the mild scent of the grass reminding him of places he would rather be.

He turned with effort onto his back, clawing air into his lungs, staring up at the shadow backlit by the headlights. 

‘Did I miss anything from the files this time, Yagami-kun?’ asked Ryuuzaki.

Then without the distraction of sight, the darkness of the field, the modulation of the words, the nature of the notes and intonation, it suddenly made sense. 

‘From what I can tell...the information...is all there...L.’

His white teeth were demonic in the dim light. ‘You have disabled my system.’

Struggling to his feet, swaying, he straightened as much as he could.

‘It was my pleasure,’ he sneered.

‘The files, Yagami-kun.’

Raito looked beyond L to where Aiber and Mello loomed on the embankment, both animated and shouting; with the gun, waving back and forth in Aiber’s hand, vehemently pointing in his direction every few words.

‘Three days,’ he said breathing deeply and coughing again, 'I work on solving the case, and this ends.'

L was satisfied. ‘But we may require only two, it seems as if the duration of your assistance may be short lived.’

Raito's eyebrows creased.

‘Two things, Yagami-Kun. One, that was a rubber bullet. It will hurt like a bitch for approximately two days. Two, your father said that when he arrived, Reiki Laksani had gone?’

He had lied, about the context of his father’s involvement. He had simply informed Chief Yagami he needed to investigate an individual by the name of Reiki Laksani. However, he had not mentioned the nature of the request, and there was no sign recognition from the Chief, when he mentioned the name. Irrespective, the distraction had served its purpose, as they hunted for his lost son. Still, he had been surprised that he had not received a call from Chief Yagami about his son, wondering if he would be caught in a shoot out with him for daring to suspect his son of anything. He wondered again, about the nature of their relationship, and what broken trusts lay scattered. 

He slowly hobbled past L, to the idling car. His taxi long gone.

The warm air hit his already peeked face, and his clothes stuck to his body as he squished and squeaked onto the leather seat.

Aiber, talked animatedly to L outside for a few moments before he eased inside.

L, reached across, brushing Raito’s knee with his hand while he opened a cabinet door. He retrieved two towels and dropped one on Raito’s lap, as he drew back to his own seat.

He picked it up and began wiping is face and hair, coughing slightly into the material.

L watched as he dried his face and spluttered into the towel muffling his coughs. He had never looked more beleaguered. Was he coming undone? It was what he needed if he was to break his reserve. But his persistent challenging attitude suggested he still had a wealth of it.

He now had concrete evidence the Raito had stolen the files. It was a federal offence and more, which he knew Raito was aware of. So his offer to help for three days, was his way of establishing a mutual truce.

He would think about it. He had the recording of their conversation in the field as evidence to ponder the unsaid proposition. 

However, if the code is broken and it leads to him...

Now, he needed Reiki Laksani.


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would love to know what you think of the story so far or in general.  
> Thank you little_duckie and menono1011 ♥♥  
> Enjoy!

#  Chapter Seventeen 

The breathing behind him, all the way to the twelfth floor, was unnerving.

As the door opened, he had less than a few seconds to adjust to the altitude, the tips of his trainers barely touching the floor, as he came nose to nose with Aiber.

‘five minutes, that’s all I ask.’

He was talking to L... but he was staring at him.

L drifted over to a selection of fruits, sitting untouched on a metal tea tray. He examined an apple: its organic shine less appealing than the waxed, and it was bland and too low in fructose for his needs. He returned it, only to analyse the next few pieces of fruit with the same critical review.

Still straining in position, the tart breath repeatedly swept over his face; he could see both the loathing and suffering he would endure, reflected in the stare.

L continued his inspection, as the grapes underwent the same scrutiny, and after pushing them around in the bowl, he selected one overly plump ball, which exploded with a sizeable pop in his mouth. ‘He is our guest. Treat him as such.’

After weaving to the chair, amidst a series of guttural protests before he was let go, a small trickle of blood escaped from the faintly formed scab, as he sat rubbing his forehead, trying to dislodge a fierce knot behind his eyes, as his mind spun with questions. _Did L genuinely consider the request? Or, did he just want him to think that?_

The main door opened and closed, and a harried short man in a grey suit, followed Mello into the backroom of the suite.

‘The data, Yagami-kun,’ said L.

He made no attempt to move. ‘Why did you send my father to Nagano?’

Honesty should suffice he thought, as they were amicable work partners now. ‘Vindictiveness.’

Before he could form a blistering retort, his view was blocked. ‘Here,’ said Matt, as he passed the damp towel to him, ‘wipe your face.’ 

He rubbed his face, and the rich burgundy that streaked along the white towel, was unnerving.

‘Data, Yagami-kun,’ said L. His impatience, quashing his need to care.

The towel fell from his lap, as he held on to the back of the chair for leverage, and the seat in front the screen gave a sudden creak, as his weight fell like lead into its confines. He had little energy for decorum.

The granite stare from L was reflective of the patience that was wearing thin, as he watched Raito suddenly stop, fingers poised and ready to start. Enough games for one night, he mentally huffed, and fingered the phone in his pocket, where Aiber was but a single digit away.

Raito tried to steady his focus, as his vision dipped and rose, like a buoy out at sea. He tried to recall what he needed to type, his mind unclear, and his senses shot. Taking a shallow breath, anchoring his mind to the corporeal, his fingers, nimble and well versed in the arrangement of the keyboard, worked from muscle memory. 

The skin pimpled as the fine hairs stood on end _. ‘Damn, he’s good!’_ was stuck on repeat in Matt’s mind, as wonderment, and the thrill of the moment, ignited a sense of awe at the creativity displayed. This was art.

‘It needs to run,’ said Raito, returning to the comfort of the chair _._

‘Fucking psychotic genius,’ said Matt.

Muted voices could be heard making their way from the backroom, and from the appointed ‘bar area’ of the suite, L sat running his tongue over his teeth, brooding over the sour taste of the unsweetened juice. He was observing Matt furtively glancing at the, ‘psychotic genius’, until leaving his precious perch in front the screen for the bathroom, appearing moments later.

‘Here,’ said Matt, holding two tablets and a glass of water.

As loyalties go, he really should let Aiber stop the headache for him. He needed five stitches and a tetanus, and Mello suffered a severely sprained wrist, and his face was still that tomatoey reddy colour.

‘No, thank you,’ Raito murmured. Right now, he struggled to swallow his own spit.

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘Like I give a shit.’ and all but threw the items on the nearby table before stomping to his seat; sitting with his back towards the room. The rejection of help wounding.

‘It’s done,’ said Matt in both surprise and relief a minute later.

The loud hum of the phone broke the subdued reverie. ‘Forty-five minutes. Thank you.’ L straightened his back. ‘Your father is back at the station; he wants to talk to you.’

He finally swallowed. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.

Standing with his head against the locked bathroom door, as the bright lights screamed at him, he wondered what he wanted to talk about? Did he know or find anything? W-what if he found something? What if he found him? He needed to make a call. He needed to start transferring the funds. He was running out of time. His view tilted slightly. He needed to...

L moved to stand behind Matt, but he wasn’t looking at the screen, his mind kept steering him back to the reaction he just witnessed. ‘Mello, check the background of Chief Yagami, clearance all levels, discreet.’

‘On it.’

He paced back and forth behind Matt, pulling thoughtlessly on the shard of exposed skin on his finger. Slowly, he stopped.

Nothing. He could hear nothing.

His eyes widened. ‘Matt, come!’

The door jolted, as the lock snapped.

‘Watari!’ yelled Matt, as they focused on the still form.

************************

**_June 8 th 2009_ **

It had been over six months, since he last saw his brother. His father, a Senior Member of the NPA, made it difficult: the information inaccessible, red tape, tampered files, misinformation and incorrect filing. It was a constant stream of red herrings and time wasting. But, his adept ability, gave him the means and impetus to challenge himself further in his search. ‘It’s an extension of your mind and capabilities’, his grandfather praised one evening in awe of his research. ‘This ability you possess, use it for the good of the school, and the means to secure a good life for you and your brother.’

Sleepless nights caused by pain in his shoulders and back, aches in his joints, plagued him since his brother’s departure. He wondered so many times, if the pain that he felt, were pains that only twins feel between each other? Was Chou-Nan in pain? Was someone hurting him?

The nightmares kept the family awake most nights for months. ‘Psychosomatic’, his family doctor had said, ‘a manifestation of his loss and traumatic experience.’ 

Some nights, he lay awake in the dark, arms crossed over his stomach, drenched in sweat induced concentration, as he would try and use telepathy to reach his brother. It didn’t work. Sometimes, intelligence means you can rationalise anything.

The Lantern Institute for the Adolescents on the outskirts of Miyazaki, that’s where his search led him.

He still remembers when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his gut knew, it wasn’t a case his father was talking about. ‘He’s a danger to himself and his brother, he remains there indefinitely-without release.’

He made a concerted effort to visit his father in his study, disturb him enough for the screen saver to appear. ‘Hey son, let me finish up, and we can talk more later,’ he would say, his screen saver disappearing, as he typed in the password to unlock it. He kept track of the login, passwords, usernames and pin numbers his father would inadvertently use in his presence.

He finally traced the number of the call to Lantern Mental Institute for Adolescents, scrolling through his father’s phone one evening, as he talked with his mother during supper. His hand shook as he typed in the pin number, scrolling to the time of that particular call. The number he found taunted him, daring him to make the next move.

‘Hello, I would like to visit Chou-Nan Yagami, would you confirm the visiting hours,’ said Touta, his voice confident.

‘Visiting hours are, 9.30 a.m., until 8.30 p.m. You will be required to sign in with identification.’

This was not news to Raito, he had solicited several fake ID’s for Touta over the last four months with the help of his grandfather, who, with a single nod of his head, when he turned up at his office all those months ago, had turned his life upside down to help. He eluded the restraining order and the age limit for opening a school, by creating fifty year old Takian Yamoai, using the school and aspects of the criminal world he abhorred. ‘I’m doing what’s in my power to do. And you,’ he had pointed to his heart, ‘do what’s in your vast arsenal to do.’

Lantern Institute was eight hours away by train and relay bus. They took the JR Tokaido from Tokyo to Shin-Yatsushiro station, with a transfer at Shin-Osaka station. From Shin-Yatsushiro, they took the relay bus to Miyazaki. 

‘What makes you think this is your brother?’ asked Touta, as they turned out the lights.

Their room registered to a father and son: a journey he started with a simple lie, ‘I’m staying at my friend’s house’. His parents, overwhelmed by changes in their once bright son, were happy to let him go. They agreed, and spoke to Touta, a father to his imaginary friend.

‘Just a feeling,’ he said. 

The grey non-descript building, lacked charm or invitation. Though tall in stature, he found his eyes meeting many of the shoulders of the teenagers, who where a dichotomy of looking intimidating, while being clear victims of their circumstances. His heart, laden with dread, tried to prepare itself for what he would find.

At the front desk, the flustered receptionist called for assistance, as she tried to locate his room. Raito wondered if his brother was registered as a patient, or if this was another wild goose chase.

‘Room 213, down the long corridor, turn right, and then you'll be buzzed through.’ Her face suddenly warmed. ‘You're his first visitors, so I hope you'll stay a while.’ 

Sweat started at the base of his neck as their footsteps echoed on the industrial laminate flooring. Buzzed in by a second set of security guards, they made their way to a room at the end of the corridor, indicated by the nod of the guard.

The knock was soft, and they pushed the door open when there was no answer. 

The brightness of the colours in the room, conflicted with the dank colours of the building. A bookcase, small table, and walls decorated with a few pictures, made the room less sterile. 

The large bag that he released from his shoulder, clunked onto the table. 

In the corner, seated in a wheelchair speckled with rusted patches of orange, sat a mess of hair. The face, obscured by the position of the body, meant he still needed to take a few more steps to be sure.

The quiet snick of the door, secured their privacy.

 _‘Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen,’_ he counted in his head, faltering when he arrived at seventeen _._

Then, he stepped in front the chair.

The skin was blotchy and scarred; the body, contorted under the light black t-shirt and thin tracksuit bottoms, were not warm enough for the air conditioned room, and his stork like ankles, led to dirty feet. But the eyes told him...

‘It’s me, Raito…Ito,’ he swallowed.

He could hear the sound of talking, but he refused to be betrayed again by his boiling mind, taunting him with memories of a brother he once had: a brother he thought he had saved. But Dr Hanoi told him his brother was dead, a message passed on by a father who didn’t care, by a man he didn’t know. He spent many nights deep in harrowing nightmares, wailing at his loss, the pain in his shoulders when they would strap him down in his twisted fits of turmoil, when he fought the restraints, trying to reach out in his fevered mind.

Raito’s voice was almost a sob, as he swallowed his agony. ‘I’m sorry, Chou-Nan.’

He stepped forward and knelt, resting his head on the slim lap, where the muscles had withered, and taking his brother’s limp hand, he placed it on his head.

‘I’m here,’ he whispered, as he wrapped his arms around the thin waist, ‘please, remember me.’

Chou-Nan felt the soft hair in between his fingers, and he slowly curled them into the strands. It felt good, just like he remembered. 

Raito felt the movement, and he increased the grip around the waist. 

Touta, watched.

They became acquainted, when he and other members of the team, were invited for an afternoon meal at the Yagami household. He remembered, being impressed by their home, but more impressed by the kids and their games. They had bonded. Whenever Raito and Chou-Nan came to visit their father at work, they headed straight for him. At first, he had said no, when Raito asked for help. Only when Soichiro had yelled at him, when he inquired about his sons after the accident, and threatened him with demotion if he, ‘ever mentions them in the same breath again,’ did he realise, this was something he had to do.

Raito, with his head in his brother’s lap, started talking. 

There was a knock at the door, and a tall man entered. He was not wearing a white coat, but a shirt with a long pink and blue striped tie. ‘Good afternoon, I’m Dr Hanoi,’ he said, offering his hand to Touta.

‘Good afternoon, Doctor,’ he replied, unsure what to say, looking at Raito for his cue.

‘Are you assigned to, Chou-Nan?’ he enquired, rising from his kneeling position. 

Dr Hanoi sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘Can you explain to me what happened?' he asked, looking towards his brother. Not daring to mention his relationship, not knowing where his loyalties lay.

Dr Hanoi was unsure of the circumstances that brought his supposedly dead brother here. Still, here he stood, caution and suspicion, tinged with a little menace.

‘Would you like to come to my office?’

Raito hesitated. ‘We will return, Chou-Nan’ he said, his palm leeching warmth as he cupped his brother’s cold face.

They sat in the doctor’s small office and he went into detail about Chou-Nan’s arrival. They listened as he spared no detail. ‘Under normal circumstances, he would not be here,’ said Dr Hanoi, ‘but with the influence of your father it was difficult. After sometime he started to speak about his past, mainly you.’

He paused to adjust his glasses, as if preparing himself.

‘Your father called the institute claiming that you had died.'

The hate that erupted for his father, roiled in his stomach. He always knew that Chou-Nam was alive, somewhere. That's what kept him going. Now he knew why his brother looked dead. He had died inside.

'He said that it was in his best interest if we inform him as soon as possible. I refused, he was too sensitive at that time. Unfortunately, one of the other Doctors, who didn’t understand the implications, did. I had to corroborate it when he asked. His troubling eating habits followed soon after, sometimes only eating one meal every two days. Then at one point he stopped eating.’ 

The metal seat strained as he moved uncomfortably. ‘We had to drip feed him. That ended three months ago,' he said, rushing over the admittance like a tender scar. 'Now he only eats bagels, but that’s also hit and miss, and sometimes when he refuses to eat altogether, we attach him to the drip. What also manifested as a consequence, were his nightmares, where he would thrash about to the extent that he would have to be restrained. In the morning, his shoulders and back would be severely bruised. They’re not as frequent as they were, but every now and then, we would have to do it.’

Throughout the monologue, Dr Hanoi seemed, disappointed, not in the situation, but in himself. 

‘Why did you help him?’ said Raito, his mind thinking about abuse and molestation. 

‘Morally, it’s wrong, but my hands are tied. I tried to get in contact with your family a few times, but I received this letter.’ He passed the folded paper to Raito, who passed it to Touta. ‘They somehow need my _immediate_ assistance at another institute. I only have a few weeks left here.’

The room was quiet for a few moments. 

‘I plan to get my brother out, can you help me?’ said Raito. ‘In return, I promise to make sure that you would never have to worry financially again.’

Dr Hanoi had gleaned from Chou-Nan that his brother was so much more intelligent than he was. He may have underestimated what he meant. ‘I don’t require any form of financial incentive to help. If there is something I can do, I will. Please, don’t insult me by assuming my motivations are financial.’

He had blanched under the scolding, but he accepted his fault at the indiscretion. He was intelligent, yes, but he had yet to mask his naiveté, which showed itself, as a lack of wisdom. 

Back at the room, Raito rummaged inside his bag and withdrew three packets of Lemon Puff biscuits. The packed crackled as he tore into it, and a strong pungent lemon fragrance engulfed the room. The crumbly break was soft, and he stooped in front of his brother, dragging the edge of the biscuit across his lips. He watched as the vacant stare through the window moved to a point just beside him. 

_‘You know, I was the first one who discovered these biscuits,’_ he said in Spanish. _‘You made lemon vomit when you ate two whole packets yourself. Never saw fluorescent vomit before.’_

This was the tip of a knife piercing the bubble, freeing him.

 _‘Only because…you…were looking…for custard creams,’_ replied Chou-Nan, it was smooth and clear.

His heart raced.

 _‘We needed to try something new,’_ said Raito in Italian as he slipped the small fragment into his mouth, _‘five years of custard creams, was a little boring.’_

 _‘Always…looking…for the …next best…thing,’_ Chou-Nan, whispered in the most melodic Italian Raito had so longed to hear again, and he swallowed the sweet offering.

‘We will get you out,’ said Raito, crouching next to him.

Chou-Nan reached out, and brushed the side of the wet cheek. ‘Bella,’ he mouthed.

Raito did what he had wanted to do since he entered.

He kissed his forehead.

 _'Did they hurt you?’_ he whispered in his left ear, in age old Kunigami.

 _'No,’_ he said. 

Not as much as you.


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :-)

#  Chapter Eighteen 

The grabbing, tugging and twisting, goaded him to semi-consciousness, but the warmth of nothingness, was quickly drawing him back. He turned to the side, ready to resume his stay in a place of easy comfort and evicted reality, but he was swiftly pushed back in place by a firm hand.

‘Air, Yagami-kun.’ 

Hovering between two realms, he felt for the nearest hold, anchoring himself in the physical. ‘Stop.’ He wasn’t sure if he was speaking loud enough, as his mouth was full of cotton wool, and his head seemed welded to the softness beneath him, but he welcomed the inertia slowing his return: he didn’t want to be pulled from the calm place of nowhere, to the chaotic place of somewhere.

‘We shall leave him to the doctor.’

‘I don’t need a... Just...just give me a minute,’ he slurred, frozen in his movement between laying down and sitting up. He knew he needed to move-move before the timer ended. 

The shuffle of feet on carpet, alerted him to another body in the room, and blinking against the lamp light, the shadowy figure of the small man in the grey suit appeared. His eyes drifted shut, and he was still fixed in a lopsided position. The bed dipped, and his wrist was lifted without ceremony, but after successfully twisting his arm out of the grip, stubbly fingers pushed at his lids, and a blinding light caused him to flinch.

‘I need to listen to your heart.’

Through the cloudiness, he shifted clumsily to get himself upright, his manoeuvre meant he accidentally kicked the doctor, who hastily moved back. He would make no apologies for it.

‘No, you don’t. It’s clear I’m not dead.’ The corner of his eyes creased slightly as he screwed them tight, then widened them a few times.

‘Listen, young man. I’m the doctor and you’re my patient,’ he said, shuffling along the bed to get out of the way of a second kick in his side.

‘You’re not my doctor,’ he said, finally stable on the edge of the bed, ‘and as a foreign doctor, because obviously you’re British, you need a licence to practice in Japan. A UK medical license is only legal if you’re sent from the UK government as a medical treatment doctor for UK residents only. Number one, I doubt you’re a medical treatment doctor, because two, I’m not a UK resident, and if I was, I have the right to refuse consent.'

The doctor sat unflinching; he didn't need to prove his right to practice, but he needed to see how far he should push. ‘Can we talk outside,’ he directed to L.

Raito bowed his head, laughing quietly at the absurdity of the entire situation as they both left the room.

‘How are you feeling?’ asked Watari, placing Raito’s bag at the end of the bed. He wasn’t sure if this burst of laughter was the start of a hysterical breakdown. He’d seen plenty of them in his lifetime.

‘Can I have a glass of water please?’ was the only appropriate response for him in lieu of an honest one. He wasn't feeling anything, that was the problem, his only conscious thought revolved around his need to leave. 

There was a clinking of glass as the fridge door opened, and he was handed a bottle already wet with condensation. Tilting his head, he drank deeply, the frigid stream welcomed on his parched throat. ‘Thank you,’ he said, sending out a chilled breath.

The bottle was placed on the side table as soon as the screw cap clicked into place. Steadying his mind, he braced himself to rise.

‘If I may offer some advice?’ Watari urged, halting him in his movement. ‘Rest for a while. The work will start all too soon, and if I may be so bold, you look as if you could use another few hours. Everything will be here when you wake.’

Yes, everything: the countdown timer ticking away, L breathing down his neck as the hacker and probably killer, his brother hiding, his father waiting in the wings, and then there was his mother. What could he really say to something like that, to something he couldn’t mentally touch? And no matter how much he wanted to deny it, deep down, he knew the truth. He suddenly dared to reach out to the most raw part of his mind. What if he, Raito, was the half-brother, and this family, the Yagami’s, weren’t his?

He knew in that second, he would never be able to take that thought back.

************************

‘Chief Yagami?’ said L, as he stood behind Mello in the main area of the suite.

‘Nothing yet,’ he answered, favouring his bound wrist, as he tentatively typed, the milk facewash having done it’s job, easing both the sting and swelling. 

Still, it wasn’t the pain that bugged him. No, it was the relentless gripe of Aiber. He hadn’t softened in his years in Special Ops, but he was exactly what the tours had created. He was an excellent retriever, fearless and loyal; a good person to have on your side, but he had a short fuse. Both he and Matt, had butted heads with him a few times, but as L had a hold on him so tight you could hear it squeak, he tended not to go too far with either of them, reigning in his behaviour. Only once did he fail, when he grabbed him by the neck, and Matt was there with the business end of a gun against his temple. The craziness in Matt’s eyes was disturbing, _‘touch him, and the next thing you’ll feel is Cerberus chomping on your arse.’_ The click of the bullet into the chamber had Aiber letting go. Yeah, he never tried that again, you don’t mess with crazy.

************************

For the first time in a long time, he tempered his voice. Watari had shown him nothing but kindness, and he didn’t want to be remiss in acknowledging that. ‘I appreciate your concern, Watari, thank you, but we need to focus on the case before someone else loses their life.’... _and I can leave._

‘Okay then,’ Watari nodded, no ill-feeling emanating from him, and when leaving, he touched L gently on the shoulder as they crossed each other at the threshold of the door, pausing for a moment to exchange words.

He still sat on the end of the bed. ‘Has my father called again?’

‘We told him that you were still in the field, and you will call when you’re free.’

That should give him some time. He didn’t have a phone, and he needed to get his hands on a new one soon.

As he sat, L standing on the other side of the bed, pondered the stalemate. The doctor made it clear that he was willing to force treatment if needed, ‘I can easily sanction him if you want me to push that far, but you’ll have the chief up in arms, and you’d better have answers if you do.’ He had not been threatened by the prospect of the Chief being 'up in arms', he would welcome the confrontation, if only to dig for more information about his only living son. Not to mention, he had the backing of most, if not all government agencies, all over the world, it would be like the Kraken versus a gold fish. 

However, he had opted for a more straightforward approach. ‘May I check your injuries?’

 _God No_. ‘Why?’

‘We have to ensure you’re healthy enough to proceed.’... _or you don’t have any internal bleeding and die on the job._

‘Aiber, didn’t seem to think being alive was pre-requisite to proceed.’

Yes, he heard. He had to do a little rope tightening and damage control where Aiber was concerned. His official stance was communicated to all, which was, until he was in a position to state otherwise, Raito Yagami, was assisting with the case; with that, he is afforded all the rights of a free man, as any other consultant working in their team.

‘He can be excitable at times.’

Raito dragged his hand down his face. ‘This is surreal.’

‘Indeed.’ He didn’t have a habit of touching his consultants.

The room remained quiet, as Raito argued with his inner demons, and L picked lint from his jumper.

The sound of the zip being released brought L’s attention back. 

The abdomen was bruised, lumpy and red as he carried out the palpitation of the torso. He noticed the stomach flutter at the lighter touches but continued to move with gentleness. ‘ _More flies with honey,'_ Watari had said, as they passed each other at the door.

‘No broken ribs. A little rest, and we can begin, Yagami-kun.’

Raito fastened his top, and prepared to get off the bed, when a hand stopped him, and the inspection continued to his forehead.

‘Enough,’ he finally stated, when a particular press on a sensitive area, caused him to pull back.

Turning off the tap, the last dregs of water made its journey down the drain, and he dried his hands on the fresh towel. He had been initially taken aback at the faint scars that marred his body. From their records, the only time he had been to a hospital was in November 2008, when he had fallen off their shed. But, he had seen bodies, bodies carved up like kebab meat, skin flayed as the victim hung upside down, blood leaking from mouths, where screams had burst the veins that lined their throats, too many victims to be familiar with the lines of an active knife mark.

What he just saw, was no fall off a shed.

************************

It was 00.45 a.m., Wednesday morning. He hadn’t slept for nearly three days. 

‘What is your relationship with, Dr Hanoi?’ said L, situated in front of the bright screen.

The cab driver had confirmed he was taking him to a place a quarter of a mile away from Dr Hanoi’s residence: already flagged on their system in connection to Reiki Laksani, it was therefore easy to make the connection, and too much of a coincidence to believe he was heading anywhere else.

Raito sat on a paper strewn bed. He was denied entry to the main area until he rested, and this was their compromise. ‘There is no relationship.’ 

‘Don’t do that.’

Raito stopped and stared in exasperation, before he realised, he meant, stop rubbing your forehead. The tossed cardboard box slid across the cotton sheet and came to rest when it hit his knee. Snapping up two sheets, he wiped at the lump, and the tissue came away sticky with rust coloured flakes, yellow pus, and a little fresh blood.

The intermittent rustling of paper, scribbling of notes, and tapping on keys, broke the strained silence that lay between them. They had afforded him the luxury of a laptop, but it’s internet access, and functionalities had been severely limited. His gripe about his lack of access, was met with a short rebuttal. _‘Until we know how far your abilities extend, we will set boundaries. Or, you can call your father, I’m sure he’ll be happy to bring one for you.’_ The resentment remained dense in the room for hours after.

Sniffing softly, his eyes fixed on a key point on the screen. He flicked a few times between the open tabs, then came back to the original document. With a renewed energy, his actions became more pronounced, his face suddenly flushing a rose red. This could be it! Right there! One the screen! 

He coughed to gain attention. ‘This may be speculation,’ he said, ‘but I believe we should do a run on webcams, it’s not clear if they were on during the murders.’

‘Cyber Jacker?’ asked L.

‘No,’ he replied immediately, ‘this is different.’

‘Webcams can be hacked using a remote administration tool, that could have easily been uploaded without the victims knowing, Yagami-kun. If they can hack into financials, they may have the ability to hack webcams just as easily.’

‘Maybe, but we can still find footage in the video or audio storage files, if we search in the webcam recording folder, or we can search for any newly added files in the file location folder, or we can just run the webcam. If that fails, we can do a Malware scan by checking the data flow during online sessions, to check spikes in data usage. There are other ways, but we can run those checks first.’

He took time to stand. ‘I’ll run it by them.’

The scraping of plates, the smell of fresh blends, and an array of breakfast foods was an inviting sight as he entered the main area.

‘Will you be joining us?’ asked Watari, surprised by his appearance, but ready to assist him as soon as he entered.

‘No. Thank you.’ He had lost his appetite the moment he saw the timer on, **‘ _23.34.12’_**. Less than twenty four hours.

School, he kept resources at the school.

‘I need to go to the school today,’ he said to L’s back, as he returned and headed straight for his bag, pulling out clothes and a bathroom bag.

‘That is neither advisable, nor permissible at this time, Yagami-kun.’

‘I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.’

The door to the bathroom gave a satisfied slam.

L retrieved the phone from his desk. ‘Watari, we’re going to school.’

************************

Before he could reach the door to the office, the stampede of feet on the soft tiles, laughing and cries of _‘Yagami-Sensei!’_ could be heard in childlike Japanese. He knelt down and hugged as many of them as he could get into the circle of his arms.

L stood back, alarmed at the display of warmth.

 _‘And you’re not in lessons because…’_ he chided.

The smiles that exuded from them, showed that his staunch words had a negligible effect on their excitement in seeing him. _‘We saw you from the window and Ms Chain said we could say hello!’_ Then in unison they all said, ‘Konnichiwa!’

 _‘Oh, she did, did she,’_ he pretended to scold, as she stood near the classroom door, waving frantically.

One of the children looked concerned. _‘What happened?’_ she pointed to his forehead.

He touched it slowly, he had found some plasters in the cabinet in the bathroom. He thought that would suffice, but L wondered if he was up to date with his shots in case, he contracted an infection. He told him what he could do with is shots. _‘_

_It was a small accident. I hit my head with the kitchen cupboard. Silly me.’_

The kids were ushered back to their class, and he told them he would see them again before he left.

The office was simple: files neatly stacked, and colour coded folders, two screens on the long desk, a bookshelf home to a number of educational and academic papers. He noticed the three published works by, Yagami, Raito, dated 2016, 2019, and 2020. 

Still more books, Yagami-kun, his thoughts quipped.

Along the shelf in the corner of the room, nearest to the desk, L spotted it and his heart uncharacteristically leapt. There it was, ‘Psychology and the Criminal Mind’ by Ciene Teilwal.

Raito caught him looking at one of his more favoured books, as he leafed through the letters on his desk. ‘Maybe you should read it, it’s pretty concise, lacking in some areas, but worthy.’

L flicked through the book. This one wasn’t so much a labour of love, in comparison to the other four, currently lining the top shelf. 

Raito opened his bottom drawer to collect a few paperclips, while slipping one of the three phones from the drawer, up his sleeve.

‘Shall we go,’ he said, as he shoved his hand in his pocket, releasing the phone.

L found a secluded spot in the corner of the playground, and watched as Raito, who, true to his word, was out with the children in the chilly air, playing. He searched in the large pockets of his coat, and the crackling of the packet, drew attention. He had forgotten that children had the most voracious appetites and could hear a sweet packet opening from over a hundred miles away. A small, very short crowd formed around him in no time.

‘You should not eat sweets.’ ‘It will stunt your growth.’ ‘You will be short forever.’ 

Four chocolate bars, two packets of Haribo Jellybeans, and one cough sweet later, and he was out of sugar. With that, the kids disappeared also. He moaned about how children had the same feeding instincts as locusts and made a mental note to ask Watari to order a dozen boxes of chocolates and Haribo jellybeans...for the kids.

‘Are you hungry?’ asked L.

‘No.’

‘An early dinner it is.’ 

'We have food at the hotel.'

'But, this makes a nice change. Come, let's have an early dinner date.'

'Let's not.'

He thought he saw L, smile, but he was too tired to wonder what games his mind was conjuring up now.

It was darker than most restaurants; like a place you would frequent if you wanted to hide an affair. The music was low and the atmosphere, though unpretentious, was somewhat sombre. They found a table situated in the back of the restaurant; secluded behind a wall of real plants. 

‘Who’s Reiki Laksani?’

They ordered drinks that arrived only moments ago, and just as he was reaching for the freshly squeezed orange juice, his stomach flipped at the abrupt question.

‘A friend of your brother’s maybe? Or maybe you met him at the same institution that your brother stayed at?'

His face contorted slightly, not at the question, or that they knew his brother was in an institution, but at the fact that even the socially inept L, believed that someone had visited his brother while at the institution, and there wasn't even an element of doubt, or consideration, that he would be alone. 

'Surprised you could find the information, I may have accidentally on purpose deleted the files.'

There was that slight smile again.

‘Did he go to the festival with you?’ he pursued.

‘I know why you’re asking,’ said Raito. L would probably try and find out every holiday that he had been on since he was born, and try to find a photo of Reiki Laksani, but like Takian Yamoai, he would find very little.

‘Then your answer would be?’

‘The food is here,’ he said, as the waiter approached.

L picked up the chop sticks and played around with the eye of the snapper. ‘Do you go on holidays regularly, Yagami-kun?’

‘Try the fish, it looks good, or maybe something more sweeter?’

‘You are avoiding the question.’

Raito, put down his spoon a little louder than necessary. ‘And you’re putting me off my meal.’

‘Glad to see you are finally eating, your size was dwindling before our eyes.’

Right now, all he needed to do was think. L, was trying to push a button, any button. He didn't know which one he would react to, so he was pressing all of them, at once, hard. But he had built mental barricades years ago: so he would be pushing for a long time. For now, he was calm enough to think about keeping the school going with funding, and knowing that Chou-Nan was safe. He was always safe with Touta, even at the festival, when they had stayed out for most of the night, he remembered waking and promptly going back to sleep, safe in the knowledge, Touta was there. It was the same when they visited Shizukoka, Chiba and a few others over the years, they always seemed content when they came back from their outings.

Then suddenly everything moved in slow motion, while his mind spun, short-circuited and exploded.

‘Yagami-kun?’

L watched as his pupils became chasms of darkness.


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was over 5k, so it was split into two.   
> This means that the number of chapters has increased. :-)  
> Warning: Administering of Truth Serum (drugs)  
> Enjoy!♥

#  Chapter Nineteen 

If he said he knew how he arrived at the terracotta bathroom, he would be lying. After his mind connected random dots using fractured lines, he arrived at a conclusion he would have vehemently denied four days ago. If his integrity, firmly moored to the truth and his innocence, was suddenly untied, he would be adrift in a sea of incongruity, and his truth would be called into question, and so too his innocence. 

The paper towel brushed roughly against his lips, and the tepid water, with its distinct chemical taste, rushed tainted, down the stained sink. The dripping tap, now in sync with the cyclic hum of the overhead light, gave him what he needed to ground himself mentally, _forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight..._

L's quiet steps brought him to the stiff back, while he stared at the face in the mirror. ‘Well, Yagami-kun?’

The rustling of paper towels filled the small room. ‘As can be. Is Watari outside?’ he asked. It was a pointless question; but it gave little time for a response, and he left before one could be formed. He managed a brief smile to their waiter, as he left without concern for the bill. 

The distinct rumble of the engine was the acknowledgement of his early return, and in his haste to sit, he closed the door on his jacket. He roughly opened the door, pulled, then shut it hard. His fingers danced as he mentally counted, while his knee bounced up and down. The search function in his mind already collated what he needed; he could see their holidays and weekends, rushing as chunks of memory, associated with the days and places of the murders.

L stepped into the waiting car and slid gracefully across to his seat. ‘Anywhere else you would like to visit before we return?’

‘No. Thank you.’

The green icon glowed, as he thumbed across the screen. ‘Watari, hotel please.’

They both jolted slightly as the car moved off, a few revs of the engine worked to warm the interior.

‘Are you well, Yagami-kun?’ L asked, a few moments after their departure.

‘More than.’

‘Was the food disagreeable?’

‘The food was fine.’

Something had happened in the restaurant that caused the sudden change in his behaviour, and with the probability of him being the main suspect, increasing by the hour as more information was gathered, it was his job to find out why. 

************************

‘Where are you going, Yagami-kun?’

They had reached the suite around 7.15 p.m., and he had discarded his jacket, heading for the back room, trying not to focus on the thirteen hours left on the timer. ‘Trick question, L?’

L tugged on the white sleeve that had bunched as he pulled off his coat. ‘You can do the work here.’

Raito looked around at the vast room. ‘I’d prefer the room, not to mention I have work on the bed.’

‘Nope, my little daffodil, it’s been moved. You’re sitting right here.’ Matt nodded to the plastic chair that did not match any of the other furniture in the room, or the hotel, probably in the whole of Japan. It was an antagonistic move, and he wouldn’t put it past L to have flown it in direct from a UK classroom, and some poor student would be missing a seat in the morning.

He needed to get to the bedroom. ‘I need something from my bag.’

‘That’s here also. And I really, really don’t care much for your deodorant,’ Matt said, smelling his armpit. ‘You should try something a little less cedar wood, and a little more juniper berry.’

L made a call when Raito left the bathroom with a determined stride, and him with the bill. Mello informed him there was nothing against Soichiro, only his request and receipt, of a restraining order against his own father in 2008, around the time of the accident. _‘Move all Raito’s items from the backroom into the main suite and he sits near Matt for the rest of his time, use the plastic chair from Wammy’s.’_ Whatever had Raito twitchy, he needed to know. Mello laughed out loud and was heard passing the news to Matt before he disconnected.

‘If that's what you require, then fine, but I need to get something from the bathroom.’ He didn’t wait for a response, his mind, already taking inventory of the holidays, found three ‘coincidences’ and counting.

He also knew L was pushing a more offensive approach, manipulating the situation to cause insecurity and disquiet, namely, removing him from the comfort and security of the room, and putting him in the main area of the suite.

‘Raito, I would like to ask you some questions,’ L said, a few moments later, just as Raito came out of the bedroom.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asked, as the excess water on his fingers, were passed through his hair, hiding the tremors from an adrenaline rush, as he sent Chou-Nan a brief text, and hastily secured a hiding place for the phone.

‘Who is Reiki Laksani?’

 _Someone you’ll never know._ ‘Unless you tell me how important it is to the case, that question will remain unanswered.’

The slight squint of his left eye, indicated his dissatisfaction at Raito avoiding his obvious predicament, and he followed him, resentful, into the main area. ‘I believe you have luxuriated too long, safe in the knowledge that there was nothing to link you and this case. You, would be pleased to know that we have one.'

Raito crossed his arms and waited for the explanation.

‘We believe that Reiki Laksani is involved with cyber jacker, which we have come to conclude is you, and from your performance with the stolen data, dead ends for Takian Yamoai, unusual transactions on your accounts, and more, so much more; I believe that once the countdown timer has ended, it will lead us straight to you, Yagami-kun.’

‘So, in effect, you have no proof, nothing to substantiate it, no rationale or motivation, all probabilities and no certainties?’ Though he stood firm in his convictions, he was sweating beneath his shirt and jumper, the cedarwood activated by his increased body heat. ‘And you want to charge me?’

‘Officially, yes.’

‘Legally, No.’

‘Grey areas, Yagami-kun. Right now, the probability of guilty versus innocent is exceptionally high, at eighty nine percent, and in the eyes of the law, here in Japan, a citizen’s arrest can be carried out with just a suspicion of a crime being committed. You may fight the warrant, but your lawyer would be talking to you from behind bars, as Japanese justice turns very slow.’

Raito blinked twice, the accusation, out in the open. ‘I’m not a mass murderer, and you and everyone on this case knows it.'

L’s eyes sparkled with the admittance, especially as it _wasn’t_ followed up with, ‘I’m not the hacker.’

‘Where is Reiki Laksani?’

 _Where, you’ll never find him._ ‘I don’t know.’

There was an eerie silence. ‘Watari, we're ready to go.’

He was left standing in the vast space, adrift.

************************

The room they entered had two tables, four chairs, a bed and the doctor. 'Why are we here at the NPA building, when you have two entire floors at the hotel?’

‘The equipment we needed was already commissioned by the NPA, and as we don’t have the legal right to use it or have it on the premises of the hotel, it was obvious, we had to do it here.’

 _Lies, lies and more lies._ ‘When your deceitfulness is disguised as a fabrication, and it falls from your lips so easily, it makes me more aware of your spinelessness. What you really want to do is embarrass me in front of my father and his colleagues. It's another one of your hollow games, _Luki_?’

 _Luki?_ He mentally squirmed; he didn’t like that, no, he didn’t. 

‘Not inaccuracies, Yagami-kun, certainties. I could easily drop you off with Aiber, leave you both in a locked motel somewhere, but I’m certain very little of you would return.’

‘Threats, _Luki_?’

‘Options, Yagami-kun,’ he said, while walking away, frustrated at his childish behaviour, which was, in some way, getting to him.

The whispers filled the corner of the room, while Raito stood, at the other end, wondering if his father was near, watching, gloating.

‘Sit,’ said L, as he casually removed his trainers, while holding a bottle of water.

Raito sat on the metal chair and scrutinised the bottle. ‘Sodium amytal, Pentothal sodium or Seconal, or Amphetamine?’ asked Raito.

‘Does it matter?’

The bottle made a light thud as it was placed in front of him.

He sighed. ‘This isn’t necessary.’

 _We'll see._ ‘2008?’ said L.

Raito kept his demeanor as casual as possible, while a tornado tore through his insides.‘What do you want to know about it?’

‘Tell me about your accident.’

The marks on Raito’s body only served to fester in his mind. He wanted to know, how the body of a child could be abused in such a way, like the children in the investigation had been too. Another coincidence he couldn't shake?

‘What does that have to do with the investigation?’

With a grace borne from years of practice, L managed to balance his squatting frame onto the seat and sat in silence.

‘You’ve read the accident report, all the information is there.' 

‘Would you like a glass, Yagami-kun?’

‘Would you like a lawsuit, L?’

The grin was swathed in malevolence. 'Yes.'

Raito’s stomach lurched. ‘Where’s my father? I’m sure he’s not aware of what’s happening,’ he said, as the chair screeched back as he stood abruptly. 'You have no right to do this. I want to speak to my father. Now!’

L unfurled himself from the chair and they stood facing each other across the table. It was the first time Raito had mentioned his father voluntarily.

‘He will be informed accordingly. However, we must draw attention to the glaring fact, that you haven’t actually denied anything, other than you’re not the killer.’

The doctor coughed, signifying the need to move on, otherwise the blend would become ineffective.

L picked up the bottle and walked around the table. He couldn’t recall being this close to Raito before, touching distance. He pushed the bottle into his chest, knowing if he let go, it would fall untouched to the floor. He could feel the rapid heart beats against his fingers.

‘What made you leave the table during our meal?’

‘I wasn’t feeling too well.’

Standing eye to eye, they reflected the discontentment in each other. ‘This is the easier option, Yagami-kun.’

‘This is the most ineffective way to get the truth, you do know that it wouldn't completely inhibit my ability to lie, and that makes this method highly subjective.’

The water sloshed as L shoved the bottle harder into his chest, and his automatic response was to grab it. Once he realised his mistake, he let go, and the bottle clambered to the floor, glugging out its contents. 

‘This makes me wonder how much you’re willing to sacrifice for your truth, Yagami-kun. We can do this here, or we can do this in a court of law, involving your family, digging into their past,’ L stepped closer, ‘your mother’s past.’

There it was, the button he didn’t know existed, ready to be pushed.

A sudden protectiveness raged. ‘Leave my mother alone,’ he sneered.

‘Time is running out for you, we both know this to be true, you’re insulting our intelligence.’

It was only when he felt the sharp prick in the back of his neck, did he realise he'd fallen for the age old distraction technique.

He managed to get to the bed, and turned to L. ‘You need to stop.’

The doctor looked to L.

‘Continue.’


	21. Chapter 20

#  Chapter Twenty

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be this relaxed. He was usually on edge, fluctuating between exhaustion and exhilaration, his body in a perpetual state of near breakdown, would function through its disrepair. But there they were, his father and Ryuuzaki, no not Ryuuzaki, L, talking, whispering, conspiring, and he was...calm.

‘Your son is very secretive, Chief Yagami-san, and this was the only option other than-’

‘Other than what!’ You may work for L, but you have no rights to do this to my son. I will see that your superior hears of this treatment. He is not a murderer, or a-a hacker. You have made a grave mistake and I will see you pay for this Ryuuzaki.’

‘There are parts of the investigation that you are not aware of. Your relationship with one of the main suspects creates a conflict of interest, as this moment demonstrates, though there is ample plausible evidence, which, under normal circumstances, would warrant an earlier intervention if not for the circumstances surrounding your association. For now, Chief Yagami-sun, no further discussion is required.’

Turning away, he found exposure to the menace that lay beneath the accolades and commendations, fell in line with his emerging thoughts about Soichiro. Was this what Raito feared?

Soichiro’s wrath hung around him like the thermal heat off a lava flow, and this ensured that no one stopped or questioned him as he headed to his office. It wasn’t that his son was a suspect in this high profile investigation, no, he was sure when they had sent him on a wild goose chase to find this-this Reiki Laksani, that something more was happening behind the scenes. However, a carefully placed phone call and a solid threat later, he was aware of the direction the case had taken. Nonetheless, a drugged, incapacitated and open to suggestion son, was more dangerous, than an coherent one, and he was more worried about what his son would say.

The loud slam of the office door sung around the floor.

************************

_**November 10 th 2008** _

‘He fell off the shed, and that’s what I want him to remember, his only memory of that accident.’

‘Yagami-san, this is highly irregular and not something we advocate, not to mention the legal and ethical implications.’

‘You have to understand my point, he believes that a stranger did this to him, when it was his brother that I saw. His brother! I want those memories gone!’ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tempering his anger. ‘That’s what I want him to remember when he thinks about how he got those scars.’

Raito Yagami’s file lay open on the desk, imploring his conscience to do the moral thing. ‘This is not something I feel comfortable doing, it goes against both my practice and principles.’

‘I have paid you what you needed and organised for your brother to do the minimum jail time instead of the full fifteen years.’

‘You have been more than generous, Yagami-san, more than. However, this cannot be seen as a long term solution, as memories that are regressed, can easily be triggered by something random, like a song, a comparable situation, it could leave even more psychological damage.’

‘But by then, he would have built new memories, ones-’

‘It’s not as simple as building one memory over another, but it can distort his mind, trick it into believing another truth.’ He rubbed his hand across his chin, mind already made up. ‘This method will mean he will be tired a lot, his brain creating new connections, like a baby’s first months, it’s mentally exhausting. Again, suggestive regression may not mask all memories, but it will muddy those he has.’

‘We start now?’ Soichiro queried. 

The doctor turned to the files once more before confirming his answer with a flourish of his fountain pen.

The tension in Soichiro’s shoulders eased. All he needed now was to keep his father from their home, his insistence on seeing the boys, texting and calling, had pushed his hand. He would invite him to their home, maybe in a few weeks, to give the process time to work.

************************

It was 11.05pm., on Wednesday evening.

His whisper was considerate, but the request was clear. ‘Watari, this recording will not be seen by the investigation team.’

The room provided a sepia background against the acute brightness of the screen, and a single click initiated the start of the past.

_‘How do you feel?’_

_‘Tired, but glad to be laying down, it’s been a while.’_

The screen showed him sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet resting against the left side of Raito; he remembered feeling the soft brush of his clothes when he moved. 

_‘Are you cyber-jacker?’_

He watched the lazy roll of Raito’s eyes on the screen, moving slowly across the room, fixing on nothing in particular. Calm.

_‘Not sure who that is, I’m not sure if it could be me or not, we can’t say until the timer ends, that, that was a stupid question.’_

He could see himself motionless, his stare piercing. He had been taken aback by the uncharacteristic boldness of Raito, now without inhibition and diplomacy.

_‘Why did you leave the restaurant so quickly, Raito-kun?’_

_‘Why’re you calling me that? Are we friends now? Because, we weren’t friends before you decided to trawl my brain.’_

He watched the screen as Raito turned his head towards him _._

_‘Are we, friends now?’_

He could see the concentration, as he tried to figure out their relationship, his fuzzy mind, not sure where to put its faith.

_‘Did something happen to make you want to leave the restaurant?’_

_‘I was trying to make connections, I thought was important to the case. But after...I was just trying to get away from you.’_

He couldn’t see any indignation on his face, but he had felt it.

_‘Why did you want to get away from me?’_

_‘You’re an irritant, you and your Ryuuzaki.’_

He was not blind or deaf to his eccentricities. Irritant wasn’t a bad descriptor.

_‘What did you think was important to the case, Raito-kun?’_

Raito looked at him confused.

_‘Catching the mass murderer, serial killer, crazy psychomaniac? Sometimes, I wonder if you’re really, L, because you ask some really stupid questions?’_

He suddenly missed the sophisticated, albeit, challenging exchanges, in their conversations. 

_‘Did you make a connection?’_

_‘Yes, yes I did.’_

_‘What was it?’_

_‘That I need to check if the holidays match.’_

He watched himself lean in slightly.

_‘Why do you need to check the holidays?’_

_‘Because this case could be over, if it’s true that, that the holidays match.’_

_‘Do you mean the holidays of the victims?’_

_‘No, yes. No, if they were...the same thing.’_

On the screen he sent a message to Mello to check all the holidays of the victims: where they went, and for how long.

_‘Raito-kun, who is Reiki Laksani?’_

He watched Raito shake his head against the pillow.

 _‘Who is anyone really? We're all constructs of our own social order,'_ _he sighed, ‘can I have some water please. Not the...the contaminated one.’_

He had opened a bottle, and passed it to him, guiding him as he angled upright, resting on his elbows, the bottle crackling as he drank deeply.

_‘Are you involved in the murders, Raito-kun?’_

_‘No. Not sure. Not intentionally, I don’t think, not before.’_

It was too cryptic to decipher or infer the train of thought, and he could see even then, he was perplexed.

_‘Explain, not intentionally.’_

He could see another crease form.

_‘Intentionally, an awareness of what one is doing, something on purpose. Not intentionally, means you’re not aware you’re doing it.’_

He watched himself sit back on his hunches. It wasn’t the answer he required, but he had answered, delivering a clear definition.

_‘Do you know who could be involved?’_

He saw Raito’s face go blank for a moment. Then he shook his head. ‘ _Not sure.’_

He watched himself, interest piqued as he inched up a little more. _‘Why are you not sure, Raito-kun?’_

_‘Not sure if it makes sense, don’t want it to make sense.’_

He leaned in closer. _‘Tell me, Raito-kun, and I will know if it makes sense.’_

Raito managed to focus on him. _‘I can’t tell anyone anything, until I have proof beyond doubt.’_

He had said, ‘can’t’ not ‘won’t’. Did that mean he really didn’t know?

 _‘Why aren’t you sure?’_ He had asked again.

Raito rubbed his hand against his face, then let it fall heavily onto his stomach.

_‘I’m tired of talking.’_

He went to sit up, but, was gently guided back down.

_‘We have not finished, Raito-kun.’_

He decided to change tactics, take a different route to the answers he craved.

_‘Raito-kun, tell me about your…scars?’_

_He shifted, uncomfortably._

_‘I fell off the shed, an accident. I don’t remember much.’_

_‘Are you sure, Raito-kun.’_

Raito’s face turned to L. _‘Don’t you think I fell off the shed?’_

No, he didn’t.

_‘What were you doing on the top of the shed?’_

Raito’s eyes stared at him for a moment, he suspected in his haze he was not actually seeing him. Then he saw Raito flinch on the screen.

_‘I don’t know. Was playing, probably?’_

_‘Who is Chou-Nan?’_

_‘Another question you should know the answer to L,’_ he said, scoffing in an insolent manner _, ‘Chou-Nan’s, my brother, a genius.’_

The screen was sharp enough to see his eyebrows suddenly fall.

_‘And, I don’t care what’s in the file, he’s my twin brother.’_

They easily managed to assemble the lost information: they had backup, but with the infringement came the need to do a clean sweep of their entire system, they had lost files doing it, so Raito had done more damage than just data theft.

_‘Tell me about your brother’s death, Raito-kun?’_

_Raito shook his head._

_‘What you really want, is for me to tell you, what’s not in the file.’_

Even drugged he was more lucid than most.

_‘How did that make you feel when he died?’_

Raito looked to the ceiling _._

_‘Regret, like my grandfather.’_

_‘What was his regret?’_

_‘That someone died, and he couldn’t stop it.’_

Yes, he would agree that was the case for most when they suddenly lost a loved one: regret for hurt words said, regret for not spending enough time, regret that a grandson had died while he still remained alive.

He understood how that would feel, when your child dies.

_‘Do you have a regret, Raito-kun?’_

The delicate creases on his forehead, mirrored the hazy stare.

_‘That I wasn’t smart enough to find him sooner.’_

At this point intrigue coloured his fervour.

_‘Who wasn’t you smart enough to find?’_

_‘Chou-Nan.’_

_‘Was, Chou-Nan lost, Raito-kun?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Where did you find him?’_

_‘Institute near, Miyazaki.’_

That was no surprise. Maybe his parents didn’t want him to know where he was at first, he would suspect this wasn’t something that you readily shared with family, especially one so young.

_‘Do you know why he was there?’_

He had paused in concentration _._

_‘No, but my father put him there. That’s why it took a long time to find him.’_

_‘How did you find him?’_

_‘We used distraction, and my proficiency in research.’_

L had suddenly straightened at the word, ‘we’.

_‘Who helped you, Raito-kun?’_

He Raito took a deep sigh. _‘My grandfather and Touta.’_

This was a new name. Matt had come back after they arrived at the hotel, to finding a Touta Matsuda, who had worked for the NPA, who left the force a few years ago. 

_‘Did Reiki Laksani, help?’_

He watched as Raito dragged his hand over his heart.

_‘He helped us both.’_

_‘How did he help you both?’_

_‘He became my friend, after he died, kept us both safe.’_

Had he become a friend in the absence of his brother in death? But what does that have to do with keeping them safe?

_‘How did he keep you both safe, Raito-kun?_

_‘So, we wouldn’t be hurt again.’_

Something was not clear, his brother was dead, buried by the state? Why would he need protecting? And what did he mean by, hurt again?

_‘How did, Reiki Laksani, protect you both?’_

The agitation was back.

_‘He, became my brother.’_

Did he become his brother in the absence of a real brother, a replacement, a person to fill the void?

_‘So, what’s your brother’s name?’_

_‘Chou-Nan.’_

He replayed that part of the conversation so many times to be sure he was clear: Raito had a friend out of Reiki Laksani, and that friend became his brother, when his brother died, and his friend was also at the institution-the Youkoso Oka Teien Lodgings, so it figures he met him at the institution, but... if his brother died, how did Raito meet him at Youkoso Oka Teien Lodgings?

_‘Where did you meet, Reiki Laksani?’_

_‘When he became my brother.’_

He could see the moment he began to make some sense of the fragmented information.

_'Is...is Chou-Nan, Reiki Laksani?’_

_‘Only...only in name.’_

On the screen he raised himself, palm resting flush on Raito’s chest, looking down at the uncomprehending eyes.

_‘Why, in name only?’_

Raito had stared up at him, as if trying establish why he was there.

_‘He wouldn’t be hurt again.’_

_‘Who...who hurt him, Raito-kun?’_

The next part was expected, and he turned down the volume.

He watched as he jumped back from the bed and tried to grasp the arms but the slap in the face had him reeling back.

‘Out the way!’

The short stature of the doctor hid remarkable strength, as he clasped the arm and drove the needle in.

_‘...it’s my fault!’_

_************************_

The shadow stood in the corner, and the metal glinted with the silver touch of moonlight.

‘Shhh...this will only hurt for a little while.’

He tried to scream, but he didn’t have a throat, only a dark hole slathered in coagulated blood as the trachea and voice box, hung loose around his chest like raw meat, and when he screamed, nothing could be heard.

‘I’m not sure which one you are, but I would hazard a guess...you’re mine.’

Then he heard it, sweet and soft.

‘Raito, I’m here.’

_************************_

He could hear the occasional incoherent sound that escaped Raito's lips, as he lay in a drug induced sleep, oblivious to the position he would find himself in on waking.

So many questions remained unanswered but he was advised against going further. 

‘There’s something going on here that we are not aware of. I’m not a psychologist, but if we dig too deep, who knows what we will unearth, and if it will make this situation worse. My Hippocratic oath prohibits me from doing that, but if you need me to push, he will need twenty four hours before we try again.’

They had taken him back to the hotel, where he was resting on the bed: the shaking from the mild withdrawal, subsiding only an hour ago.

He didn’t learn as much as he expected, but to know that Chou-Nan was alive, had only sought to solidify his theory: the murderer and the hacker, working together. 

The intel on his grandfather found that all his possessions, everything, was left to Raito. Nothing to his son Soichiro. Not a single thing.

Raito had therefore, become the beneficiary of two homes, land and the school property, investments worth hundreds of thousands, contents of the home, savings, as well as the late wife’s possessions that included one home in Chuo, and thousands in savings. 

He knew they all tied in somehow, but every time he grabbed one frail thread, it disappeared.

‘How’s he doing?’ Watari brought a tray and rested it on the small table in the corner of the room.

‘Better,’ said L, not taking his eyes off the screen, and replayed the footage.

_‘Who helped you, Raito-kun?’_

_‘My grandfather and Touta.’_ Rewind.

 _‘My grandfather and ...’_ Rewind.

 _‘My grandfather ...’_ Rewind.

_‘... grandfather...’_

_************************_

_**October, 28 th 2000** _

‘Where’s mum?’ he asked. The two men in smart suits had left a few minutes ago.

His grandfather stood at the door. Staring.

He tapped the chest that looked as if it had ceased breathing. ‘Grandad, where’s mum?’

The voice wavered. ‘Come Lauciene, I need to talk to you,’ he said, reaching out. And like many times before, he had taken the strong but withered hand.

Time healed and he found comfort in those things that reminded him of her, because deep down, he wanted to remember, and his grandfather...

never let go.

_************************_

He rubbed at the ghost feeling in his hand.

Raito stirred.


	22. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Gore. :-)  
> Enjoy♥

#  Chapter Twenty One 

The ceiling stared back at him with its matt finish and non-descript colour. Encased in a fresh smell of fabric conditioner, the softness beneath him helped to relinquish the heaviness that sat like Osmium in his skull; the familiar tapping could be made out through the cotton balls that plugged his ears. There was a soft ruffle as he turned his head and blinked the time into view. 8.25am., Thursday morning.

‘Welcome back, Raito-kun.’

He tried to ride out the haze of disorientation and capture the missing parts of his memory, while trying to figure out why the view bothered him. But something made him reflexively respond. ‘We’re not friends.’

The tapping stopped for a moment, then resumed.

‘We brought your father in for questioning.’

His mind was a maze of dead ends, trails leading to crossroads, disjointed unattached words, questions, and a pushing and pulling against a force that compelled him to draw from old pains and reveal new ones. He wasn’t sure how much he said, but his memories seemed to hang like leaves of knowledge, from a tree that didn’t have roots to ground it.

Focused on him, Matt's eyes lit with the familiar look of delight when he popped his head through the door. ‘Countdown fifty-five minutes.' He winked, and a faint smell of aftershave, _his_ aftershave, lingered in the air when he left.

‘What do you think our next move should be?’ said L, typing with his back to him.

‘You have my father in for questioning?’ he asked, checking that on waking, he hadn’t imagined the statement.

‘It was inevitable, considering the circumstances.’

His mind was slowly knitting together recently absconded thoughts. His next move would entail a combination of things, but his priority was to draw their attention back to the case, to the real offender, and the importance of the web cameras. But, how do you deter an articulated lorry from hurtling towards you at full speed?

‘Did you find out about the webcams and any correlation with the infringements?’ 

‘And what do you think we would find if we looked, Raito-kun?’

 _A connection._ ‘Stupid question, L.’

L raised his eyes a fraction, observing him in the reflection of the screen, and wondered if the serum had completely worn off.

Raito relented. ‘You’re so focused on me, you’re missing the truth.’ Moving slowly he sat up, mind less hazy, and body loose and rested. ‘You’ve found nothing, that’s why I didn’t wake up in a prison cell, and yet you still persist?’

The silence was a sprawling field of mutual distrust, a place they had ventured to many times before.

‘Where is your brother?’

His mind jolted back to blocks of words; recalling them in shards, building a jagged picture of his interrogation, and images of his brother. ‘Have you told my father my brother is still alive?’

‘Only, I know of your brother, Raito-kun,' he said, the curvature of his spine prominent beneath the thin long-sleeved jumper. If he did, it would become a federal case out of his jurisdiction, and he would have to initiate the proper procedures to regain control of what would be classified as a ‘new case’, a parallel case to this one. It would prove time consuming, and time was short. 

Raito looked out of the window towards the skyline, and a fair number of trees marred the view. They had moved locations.

‘The webcams, L?’

He tapped for a further minute as if ignoring his query; the atmosphere growing tense with each passing second. ‘There have been five confirmed live links.’ He turned his head towards him. ‘Would you like me to give you praise for work well done? Or for what you already knew, Raito-kun.’

 _He still insists on using my name._ ‘Your obstinacy is what’s dragging this case along,’ he stated, finding his balance while moving towards L. ‘Your immutable stance on all things that help, you advertently hinder, and here you sit, using your time and energy, trying to catch me in a lie,' he finished, standing by L.

The jibe hit closer than he wanted to believe. ‘Your brother, Raito-kun.’

His mind was clear, clearer than it had been for a while. He had just needed rest, ironically, what the drug had evidently provided. ‘No,’ he simply stated.

The tapping stopped, and a slow melodic creak issued against the strain of the metal joint, as L turned to face him. ‘There is a file here that I found interesting.’ He took the slim blue folder and placed it on the desk.

Raito hesitated, before opening. The gleam from the screen made a clear reflection of the image on his eyes. He swiftly closed it and unconsciously took a small step back.

L observed with acute satisfaction. ‘Not a pleasant sight, Raito-kun, when the top of the head is squashed beyond recognition, and the body so charred, it makes identification challenging. The driver, crushed by the front of the car, and the random passer-by, both died when the car collided with a wall. Maybe I need to re-open the case, query the blood types, and dental records of the victims.’

‘I need to use the bathroom.’

A different hotel and a different room meant he didn’t have access to his hidden phone. This phone was slim, and easily slipped from his pocket. L had placed the phone on the side of the computer. It may have been a ploy-L was never that careless-but he took the risk. He sent the message, disconnected the phone, removed the sim, and dropped the phone into the sink. He rested his hands either side of the basin and jumped when the short sharp knocks echoed in the room. 

‘Have you quite finished, Raito-kun?’

‘All yours,’ he motioned, stepping from the bathroom.

L stared at the sink overflowing with bubbles, and fingers deep in his pockets, rapidly crossed and uncrossed instinctively: a stimming behaviour he hadn’t used in years.

‘He dialled a sixteen-digit code, which will take some time to route, approximately twenty-minutes, sir,’ said a plain clothed individual, giving Raito a slow once over, before he left the room.

It was a GIX algorithmic code, unbreakable; the only non-traceable communications blocker in the world, and it was his. If they cracked it within twenty six months, it would be a miracle.

Without taking his eyes off his, L produced another phone. ‘Watari, we are ready to leave.’

Raito’s nonchalance masked his apprehension as he shuffled into his shoes near the door.

He would take them to his brother, it had been a long time since he saw him.

************************

His fingers flittered over the keys, and they spewed letters, numbers and symbols.

The laptop chimed.

‘Is it done?’ said Touta, his hands resting on Chou-Nan’s shoulders, looking at the screen and not comprehending the coded trail. 

He nodded slowly.

Touta came and sat down next to him, the usual crocodile grin harboured so much that he didn’t know where to start: a lemniscate, a constant movement in a fixed sign. 

He rested his hand on his lap, Raito's place. ‘He will be fine, no matter the circumstances.’

‘It doesn’t... make .... this time... any easier.’

‘Things were always going to change. Your half-brother, just wasn’t paying attention.’

************************

The drive lulled him slightly; allowed him to ponder the Yagami’s. What they had was a serial killer whose motivation was to address an unfulfilled fantasy, and with an 87% match to the ‘Organised’ typology profile, based on intelligence planning, cunning, and stealth, it seems that Raito was a perfect fit.

'What?' said Raito.

L wasn't aware he was staring and turned to the fast moving scenery outside.

He had surmised that Soichiro hurt Raito, Chou-Nan had seen, and was sent away. Raito blocked it out, but their deadly tendencies were awakened when they found each other, and they exacted revenge using the school and Takian Yamoai, who left blockers and re-routers, and aided in the killings. They focused on those in power who abused their kids, a classic revenge and unfulfilled theory: they couldn’t hurt their father, so they hurt someone in similar powerful positions instead yielding a conclusive probability of over 79%. The probability that the webcams were mementos to record the deeds, increased the likelihood to approximately 84%, as organised killers tended to retain trinkets of their acts.

His eyes wandered unbidding to Raito again. Did he have mementos of those heinous acts of violence?

‘Why would your father try to hurt you?’

Raito watched the houses pass by and wondered on their normal everyday life.

‘Where was your brother when you fell from the shed? Did he see your father push you?’

Raito leaned back and closed his eyes. He would leave him to keep pushing random buttons on his baseless theories.

The truth was far more traumatising.

************************

**_June 10 th 2009_ **

‘You came...back.’

It had been two days since his last visit. He had listened to Dr Hanoi explain that Chou-Nan believed his father had hurt him. But Raito couldn’t say if it was true or false. He had fallen from the shed, and when he had returned from the hospital, Chou-Nan was gone.

He sat near the window, the sun already heating the room, after they had walked around the complex and spent time in the garden. Dr Hanoi organised for a chaperone to help push the wheelchair, and more importantly, to guard against the impulsiveness of the other patients.

And now, here they were.

He played with the phone in his hand, a distraction. He took a deep breath. ‘Chou-Nan, do you remember how this happened?’

What did he mean? How did this happen? ‘How did...what happen?’

He couldn’t look directly at him, so looked to his screen, a simulated view of a black hole stared back. ‘Your wheelchair? What happened?’

Raito watched as Chou-Nan's eyes opened wider than he was used to seeing, and his mouth hung open to demonstrate a perfect ellipse. He watched as the corner of the eyes leaked a trail of liquid down to his jawline, causing the thousand pound grip on his heart to tighten.

He found himself kneeling in front his brother. ‘It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it?’

How can he not remember? His mind screamed. How can he not remember what happened? ‘Ito,’ he said, ‘you... were there.’

‘No. Chou-Nan, I wasn’t there?’

‘Ito...you were...there,’ he said, with a little more force.

Raito saw the slight tinge of red colour his cheeks and neck. ‘Chou-Nan, I wasn’t there.’

The movement of the wheel was quick, and he found himself sprawled on the cheap vinyl flooring, and the metallic taste sour, where he bit his lip.

‘You...were...there!’ The scream strained from his throat. ‘I... saved you!’

He wanted to reiterate he hadn’t been there, but he couldn’t, as something was already ticking over in his brain.

Chou-Nan's breathing was laboured as he tried to force the words out. ‘Those...scars on...your chest...that was...how...you...got them!’

Scars, he had three scars across his chest. How did he know? His hand rubbed at the ghost feeling of past pain, past broken limb, scars that peppered his body, still painful if he moved the wrong way. This was from the shed? He knew it. He saw it in his minds eye. He had climbed the outside of the shed and wanted to see if he could balance on the outside beam, and he had fallen. Yes, he had fallen.

‘Raito?’

‘No. Chou-Nan, you weren’t there, I fell.’

Raito watched the tears flow freely.

‘Don’t you...remember what ...happened ...You saved me ...from dad... and I saved you...from the stranger.’

It was as if someone had voiced his dark fear. His dreams were riddled with images of a stranger. Sleepless nights running from someone who slashed, teared and ripped at him. ‘W-what stranger.’

‘The stranger... in the shed!’ his voice screeched. ‘The man... he cut you... tied you ...with a rope... you were...a starfish. The stranger...that used.... the garden fork ... across your chest. I....cut you free... I cut...you free!’

He coughed, as he reached for the phantom rope around his throat, tight, thick and slippery. Then he saw a back, wide and strong, and he swung. No! His mind screamed. That single thought was all that would escape the clutches of the black hole of his mind, the rest, would remain in darkness and obscurity.

Raito stood. ‘Stop, Chou-Nan,’ he said, with berry stained teeth.

‘Don’t...leave!’ The shrill of the words echoed in the room.

‘I would never leave you,’ he said, crouching and resting his head on his lap. ‘Never.’

Chou-Nan never mentioned it again, only the pained expression Raito would catch, would show his disquiet. But his world came crashing down eight months later.

‘Everyone is talking about your help with the cases. You’re making quite an impact.’ They sat, table big enough to house them and the files that lay piled on the table. ‘You will be sought after in a few years, be able to will walk into an officers role, you’ll see.’ 

‘Chief, dropped an outline of a case I’m working on in your office, rough one, think the kid should sit this one out,’ Shuichi voiced. He had said many times that he disapproved of the involvement of Raito, believed it wasn’t something that someone so young should be exposed to, _‘at the end of the day, he’s just a kid, no matter how smart he is.’_

‘He’s fine,’ Soichiro had answered, aggrieved that someone would question his son’s capabilities, someone he had fallen out of favour with.

Shuichi had nodded, ‘suit yourself. I’ll bring them over.’ 

A few moments later he placed them on the large desk. ‘The rest have been added to the drive,' he said, sitting down, making room for himself and his laptop at the table.

‘Officer Aizawa, please work with Matsuda on the case, while I work with my son.’

He paused in his motion. ‘But, Chief, I was handed the case personally, this is my case.’

‘And it will be handled by us for now. Ensure that you report to me in a few hours, on any progress you have made.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he said, taking the laptop as he left, not looking back, but his stiff shoulders said all he couldn’t.

‘Raito, go to the drive, this file number is...’ he flicked through the front sheets, ‘4309_TR.'

He didn’t have time to erect any mental barriers, as the click of the mouse brought with it photos of a man with his head split down the centre like a watermelon. One eye was open staring at the camera, the other drooped to the side. Machete firmly embedded, as he sat at the table, large gashes on his arms and legs, and from the lower arm swinging in the breeze from an open back door, was a thin strip of muscle attaching it to the upper arm. They had been eating. The jug of orange juice was half empty, used glasses sat with dregs at the bottom, buttered bread sitting with bite marks on the edge of a plate. But it was the fork embedded in the steak, tines deep in the flesh, and juices from the rare meat pooled on the plate that caused him to stop.

Then it hit him like a juggernaut.

_‘You did this! I will kill you, you son of a bitch! You devil! I will kill you for what you have done! I will kill you!’_

_‘Stop, please stop,’ he tried to shout, his throat torn and dry._

_He found the scythe that lay on its side, and with all his strength he swung, and it found it’s mark, buried inches deep. The handle hung vertical as the slow oozing of wet liquid turned the blue shirt, a mahogany brown._

He had woken in the office.

‘Okay, son?’

He nodded. The bitter aftertaste of something so real paralysed his tongue.

‘You fainted,’ said his father. ‘And I am responsible. I apologise son, I was not thinking. Shuichi will take you home.’

His journey home was fraught with things lurking and hiding in places that were suddenly being illuminated. He blocked them with Shuichi’s monologue. ‘Things like that, it takes years to build up a resilience too, so don’t be ashamed that you fainted. It happens to the best of us, a true officer will always be affected, if you’re no longer affected, then you need to hand in your badge.’ 

His mother had received him with a hug and a bowl of soup. ‘You are doing too much, you have school, so many after school activities, and now you work with your father. Maybe it's time to step back and choose only one thing to focus on.'

It was after eleven o’clock and the house was in darkness. The shower had turned on a few minutes earlier, and he had walked with care to the bathroom. He could hear the slight banging of strong spray against the fixed glass door. He turned the handle slowly. His father rarely locked the door, his late night routine and running shower, alerted anyone to its occupancy. The handle barely made a sound as he turned and pushed. The door opened smoothly. Just a slither of light sliced into the dark landing. The water turned off. Raito cast his eyes down as his father stepped naked from the shower. Then the clatter of items that fell from the cabinet, prompted him to look again. 

The gash, a line of about five inches, raised with keloid scars, stood proud under the harsh light.

‘Hello?’ His father called, just after the door snicked shut.

The floor welcomed him as he curled up on the carpet, the darkness of the room his blanket, and the world beyond the door, a lie.

He had feigned sickness, using the events of the night before, as his excuse to stay home from school. But he was afraid to meet his father eye to eye at the breakfast table, afraid of what he would see.

When the house was empty, he ventured to the garden, a place he hadn’t consciously gone since the accident. A new shed stood, coloured bright with fresh paint, and the roof flat and low. His mind, already simmering from yesterday, started to roil with uncertainty, creating bubbles of discontent, and his logical mind was fighting with the illogical parts of his brain that wanted to wander into the unknown, looking for possibilities of truth, while the logical wanted to push away any semblance of contradiction. With a herculean effort, he used words, facts, and numbers to stave off the eye of Sauron, the glaring eye of the illogical.

He arrived at the entrance of the institute struggling to hold on. His slow steps turned into a run, shoving open the door, and falling into the room while still grasping the handle.

‘Raito?’ came the surprised voice.

He was bent in half, chest trying to drink in air, as he knelt clutching at Chou-Nan’s jumper.

‘Breathe...Ito!’

He couldn’t. He couldn’t! The words, he needed words.

 _I remember how to do this,_ the voice echoed in his mind. Chou-Nan grabbed the sweaty face and angled it to his, as best as he could, the trembles from Raito, making his hands shake also.

‘Xylosma... and Zinnia...name me...a first one...Ito? What...is it?’ he raised his voice.

He held on. Struggled. ‘A-Aster,’ he whispered.

‘Good...590 to 570 nm....570 to 495 nm...what...is next, Ito?’

His fingers gripped and released, gripped and released as the jumper scrunched in his hand. ‘Blue, 495-450nm.’

‘Suturing the ... heart muscle, what is it called?’

 _I have no heart. I didn’t remember_. ‘Cardiopathy.’

For two minutes, it was all they could do to ground each other.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all he could say, with is first breath.

Chou-Nan used his nails to scratch gently at the delicate scalp that enclosed a mind that had splintered into a million pieces.

‘I stopped him,’ he breathed. ‘I stopped him.’

‘Yes Ito...you saved...me.’

With fingers threading through his hair, calming him, Raito wondered about the man who haunted his dreams.

************************

Secluded, empty, the graveyard came into view.

‘Why are we here?’ said L, moving slightly forward to look through the window.

‘You wanted to know where my brother is. Well…’

‘This is a graveyard. We both know that your brother is not dead, Raito-kun.’

‘Do we? Prove it.’

L stared. ‘This is not what we agreed.’

‘This isn’t?’

L looked around. ‘Watari, I would like to stay,' he said, before exiting the car.

Raito waited for a few seconds before he left the comfort of the car to follow. They walked without speaking through the tall stones, as they lay crooked and worn. Some had seen attendance in the last few days, while others had seen little in decades.

He leaned down and brushed away the ivy that clung to the top of a grey headstone, and the few leaves piled on the flat ground. The epitaph read, ‘Brother, my love for you is eternal’. Yes, the state had buried him in a random grave, but he had fought to have it moved, whether it was his brother’s body or not, it was symbolic of the challenges they had endured.

‘This is Chou-Nan.’

The sound of the trees scuffling with each other, scraping and scratching while the wind fled with the guilt of its intervention, filled the air.

‘Where is your brother, Raito-kun?’

He bent down to remove the dried single rose. ‘Where you will never find him.’

Black tendrils whipped across his forehead and leaves took flight in the sudden gust. ‘Then we have a problem.’

They stood side by side in quiet reflection of their parallel situations.

L's fingers crossed and uncrossed in his pocket. ‘You know we could exhume the body.’

He rubbed his hands together, releasing the debris stuck to his palms. ‘If you think it’s necessary.’

They both knew the legal implications of a move like that. Death was a sacrilegious event in Japanese culture, he would have to provide damning evidence of why he needed to exhume a body.

‘You do not seem fazed by the situation, Raito-kun?’ he said, opening the car door and standing back.

Raito paused. ‘If you need a suspect, then you will have only one. Me.’

They had settled in the car, but he couldn't hear the usual rumble of the engine.

‘Do you want to know what your father said?’

That caught Raito off-guard. He was not expecting the question. ‘No. I’m not concerned. Again, if it was incriminating, he would be behind bars.’

‘I have something for you.’ He removed the laptop from a case that had not been there earlier. ‘Thought you would like to see.’

‘I told you I’m not - ‘

L pressed play and raised the volume to its highest level. Then turned to watch Raito.


	23. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!♥

#  Chapter Twenty Two 

_The footage started._

He settled in the chair. The room was sparse, but it wasn’t an interrogation room like the one he had been in at the station, it was a well presented room, bright, due to the large window. Maybe it had taken place at the hotel they had left behind, or quite possibly, somewhere in this hotel? It looked like a place where two people could talk privately, and the angle of the screen, one could deduce, seemed like a recording taken on a phone or small device. 

‘This is most unorthodox, Ryuuzaki, but if it helps with the investigation in anyway, then I'm more than happy to be of service.’

‘Tell me about your son, Raito?’

‘My son? Well, as I've said before, he’s a good, decent young man, works hard to do right by the community. I’m unsure of why you would ask, as I thought you brought me here to discuss the case.’

'We will get to that shortly, Yagami-san.'

He huffed slightly, not content with the response, but not in a position to recant his earlier statement of helping. 

‘Tell me about your son, Chou-Nan.’

There was a shuffling as Soichiro adjusted himself on the seat. ‘He was a good son also, but he was –troubled.’

‘How troubled was your son to send him to a psychiatric ward at age 9?’

The screen easily picked up his displeasure brought about the question, and the sheen of sweat was causing his skin to glow against the light.

‘He was a danger to himself, and the only way to protect him was to place him somewhere to get the help he needed.’

‘Why would he need help?’

He shifted again, hands gripping the mug with wisps of steam rising from the surface.

‘Again, I’m not sure how this has anything to do with the case,’ and his eyes, once uncertain, suddenly hardened with a razor sharp focus.

‘How long did you leave him in psychiatric care, Yagami-san?’

Soichiro looked more confident in his seat, back straight as he began to morph in to someone with a steel resolve. ‘Two years before he died in a car crash.’

‘So, you could say he was there the rest of his life.’

His face was blank as he seemed to digest the statement. ‘I believe you could say that, yes.’

‘Tell me about the relationship between Raito and Chou-Nan.’

The screen picked up the small smile that seemed to wander unguarded. ‘They were inseparable. Both very intelligent children, as you know. They lived for each other. Together they were a powerful force.’ However, the resentment seemed to have seeped in towards the end of his statement.

‘What happened on the day that Raito went to hospital? And by regards, the same time Chou-Nan was sent to the institution?’

Agitation began to set in. ‘Why do you want to know this information? What does this have to do with the case?’

‘Please answer the question, Yagami-san.’

‘What does this have to do with the investigation? Or...,' he said, his eyes suddenly feral, 'is there something else that you're withholding?’

‘Please answer the question, Yagami-san.’

The clock in the room, ticked away as he drank his coffee, making no attempt to answer.

‘Maybe, I shall require the answer from his mother. Was she there on the day?’

Raito felt a twinge of Deja vu, as he watched L, or as his father still knows him, Ryuuzaki, press a button that gave the required response.

‘He endangered, Raito.’

‘How did he endanger him?’

He looked like a man trying to figure out the gravity of his position. ‘He pushed him off the roof of our home.’

‘Why, do you think he would do that, if you say they lived for each other? Surely if one of them dies, the other would be distraught?’

‘I never found out.’

‘Did you give him a chance to explain?’

He took another sip of his coffee no longer showing signs of warmth.

‘Where there earlier indications of his temperament?'

Soichiro seemed to be thinking about the question.

L reiterated. 'Did he harm, Raito, prior to this?’

He took another, longer drink from his cup, and then swallowing, looking into the cavity as if seeking his fortune. 

‘Could it have been an accident?’

‘No!’ He exclaimed, as if a nerve had been touched beneath his thick skin. 

‘Were you there at the time?’

A fleeting reaction was captured by the screen.

‘No.’

‘How did Chou-Nan receive such trauma to his body, if he was the one that pushed Raito?’

The room was quiet. Soichiro toying with his empty coffee cup.

Yes, Raito thought, he had forgotten that the institute held records of the state of the patients when they arrived. That was one thing he hadn’t manage to tamper with. 

‘He jumped off the roof when he realised that he had most probably killed his brother. I don’t know, but he was not of sound mind, and I wanted to separate them, and stop him from harming him again. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I have no regrets.’

It was as if each word from his mouth was a stab in Raito’s chest, as the lies fell like torrential rain that left a deluge of waste and effluence behind. He probably thought he looked innocent of his wrong doings, a cognitive dissonance to justify his actions, and comprehending what he had done to his child. That was probably the reason he didn’t argue against the line of questioning: his disconnection cleared him of guilt.

‘Such an assumption, Yagami-san. Yet, you chose to send Raito to the hospital, were he received specialist treatment, and you left your other son to the state, where he received less than adequate treatment under the institution. He acquired several infections, some causing further damage.’

L remained standing just outside the frame. ‘Why do you think Ratio believes you tried to kill his brother?’

With the sudden narrowing of his eyes, he looked as if he was sizing up his prey, as he realised, he was playing a game that saw him slowly emerging as a villain. 

The questioning pushed on, as if his response wasn't necessary, but the question was used to impart a key piece of information. ‘Yagami-san, do you know that your sons are not identical twins?’

The reaction to this question was not one of surprise. ‘Yes, they are fraternal.’

‘You misconstrue, they are not fraternal or identical. They are two separate eggs fertilised by two different sperm. They are in fact, half-brothers, but I believe you knew this already.’

Soichiro paused for a moment. Nowhere to hide. 

L, again didn’t wait for a response. ‘Do you know which child is yours?’

Soichiro looked directly at Ryuuzaki. ‘No, I never wanted to know. I loved them both the same, but I suspected it was Chou-Nan, as Raito doesn't look anything any member of our entire family.’

‘Acute observation, however incorrect – neither is your son.’ 

_The footage stopped._

L watched and observed, calculated, deduced and was fascinated by the play of subtle changes to the face.

Raito’s eyes remained fixed on the screen. This was news to him, this was something big, this was…false.

‘Is that all of the tape?’

He clicked on another link, and an imperceptible smile momentarily graced his face.

_The footage continued._

‘That is a lie!’

‘I have proof.’

‘Tampered information.’

‘You disagree with my findings?’

‘This meeting is over!’ he said, standing with an aggressive stance toward Ryuuzaki.

‘Maybe you should ask your wife?

‘You son of a bitch!’

‘What happened to the shed in your garden?’

‘What?’ He looked genuinely thrown.

‘A week after the incident with Raito and Chou-Nan, your shed was demolished and a new one erected. What happened?’

‘This meeting is over.’

‘I believe – it is.’

_Footage end._

Thoughts of his constant complacency, when it came to Raito, rushed through is mind, before his world tilted.

He could feel the strong arms under him, pulling him upright and a palm, held onto his chin, shaking it gently from side to side. ‘Are you with me? Come on, look at me.’

The grave face came into view. 'Here, drink this.’

Watari, not really fussing, crouched easily near the open door . L took the offered drink and sipped slowly. He knew Soichiro had lied about everything, he wanted to know, why? There was direct link to the killings, and his gut, twisting with a truth that was just out of reach, needed him to find that connection.

‘Your head?’

‘It is fine.’

‘Did you have to provoke him?’

‘It was necessary.’

He had to create an opportunity for his escape. He had to make the chance seem as if it wasn't a contrived act, as Raito would see through the façade all too easily. No, he had to think he escaped of his own accord, when in fact, he was behaving as planned, as now, something had changed his perspective, something unforeseen, hadn’t fathomed in the beginning. 

Raito was in danger.

*************************

He moved quickly. He knew his reaction was expected, and he didn't disappoint. They both new at this juncture, he needed to get in contact with Chou-Nan, L's ulterior motive was to find a killer, Raito's motive was to save him.

Raito saw the terminal ahead, clutching the laptop to him. There was no doubt he was being tracked, of that he was sure, but they wouldn't disclose their next move until they knew he was in his brother’s company. 

Picking up the pace, he moved through the throng of people, knocking shoulders and pushing others less aware out the way. He didn't have a choice but to find Chou-Nan.

He needed to save him from Touta. 


	24. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write. :-)  
> Enjoy♥

#  Chapter Twenty Three 

‘I need to talk to you. Is...is Touta there?’

It wasn’t long before he was able to find a phone and make use of his cards. The walk had been brisk, and he blended into the foray, with hundreds of others, on their way to, and from work, or some place of significance, keeping at a heightened pace to get there.

‘Yes, he...is always here .... The program... I tried…the best...I could…it was…close.’

He looked over his shoulder as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled with unease. The busy street did little to provide comfort in his anonymity. He wasn’t sure how much to say, having Touta near his brother, meant he had to be cautious with is words. ‘I wanted to let you know I’m fine.’

The sudden talking in the background made him strain to listen, as Chou-Nan’s attention was drawn to where Touta was behind him. ‘He wants ... to know how soon ...before you ...get here?’

 _Sooner than you think._ ‘I'm on my way.’

************************

It was busy, even for the middle of the working day. The sound of cash registers closing, the calling out of orders, the crackling of the fryers as they worked on the mass orders, filled the air with an acrid oily fragrance, while the grills added to the density of smells with hot patties of beef and strips of bacon.

The orange juice and small fries remained untouched, resting on the large brown plastic tray, enabling him to be seated, undisturbed, by those seeking a place to sit.

‘I underestimated the power behind your undernourished physique, Raito-kun.’

The small and compact seat, causing L discomfort when folding into the tight jigsaw space, had them sitting face to face. Raito wasn't surprised he had been found. His theory on this being a planned excursion was confirmed. They both had no need to voice the ruse, it would be redundant.

‘I can help you solve this case today, but I have some contingencies.’

‘Of course you do,’ he answered, all too expectantly.

‘I know who it is.’

‘Interesting, Raito-kun, since the encryption has now finished.’

For him to be sitting, without being tasered by the police and dragged away in handcuffs, means one of two things. One, the countdown had finished, and they found nothing, and L was putting on the perception of knowing something, when in fact he was bluffing. Two, they had simply not found any connection to him. Either way, L was not making any overt grand gestures of success.

‘I need your assurance that Chou-Nan will remain safe.’

‘Or I can bring you in, charge you, and search for him myself.’

‘With what I know, you will not catch him.’

‘And what do you know, Raito-kun?’

He felt a slight elation that he may have the upper hand. ‘Not unless...we make a deal.’

‘That will not happen.’

‘I will work with you.’ _Now that you are chasing my brother and not me._

L turned to Raito for the first time since he sat down, choosing instead to be pre-occupied with the throng of people as they shuffled along the queue, and bustled in and out. ‘Was that not our initial contract?’

He didn’t’ have the time to be contrite. ‘Yes, but things have –changed.’

‘Indeed, Raito-kun, to the point where you are in no position to negotiate.’

‘I will give you what you want, if-’

‘And what do I want, Raito-kun?’ he cut in.

‘To know everything,’

L leaned back. ‘You hold yourself in high regard to believe I will be influenced as such.’ His eyes drifted to the orange juice and untouched small fries. He was interested. Greatly interested. ‘I will only consider your proposal, after I have spoken with your brother.’

‘It’s not that easy.’

The rush seemed to have thinned out. Someone bumped their table, apologising as they walked by, trying to balance an overburdened tray by circling their arm around the tall large cups. The orange juice tilted slightly and the plastic lid, a poor excuse for a cover, allowed some of the liquid to escape. 

‘You have run out of time, Raito-kun.’

'No, I haven't.'

'I'm afraid you have.'

‘Stop being dramatic.’

Though it was fleeting, and there was now no evidence of its presence, it had happened: a fleeting almost non-existent smile.

************************

The laptop rested on the bed, while Raito had worked solidly for hours. Nothing more was said about the countdown timer and he was secure in the knowledge that L had kept his word, and he was working on finding the correlation between their holidays, the murders and Touta's whereabouts at that time. This new hotel was smaller and not as grand, but it was spacious enough for all of them. 

Drawing on photos, data, flights, he worked. L sat by him, watching. He hadn’t told Raito that his every stroke was captured on the CCTV, mirrored on a laptop on the floor below.

L was not convinced, only someone with a considerable high IQ, similar to Raito, would be able to carry out such detailed murders. Touta never displayed such intelligence, from his police files or his academy tests or successive updates, he was average at best, nothing stood out. In fact, he may be the unwitting accomplice in this case. Still, he needed to understand why Raito would not entertain, even a modicum of thought, to the possibility that this was the work of his intelligent brother, and he was only working his way to proving it.

‘Do you think Touta is capable of such deception?’

‘Yes.’

‘And not your brother?’

‘No,’ he stated sharply, as he continued typing, not paying further regard to the interruption than needed.

‘All you are proving to me, is that the accomplice is your brother.’

‘I am proving to you that he is not.’

‘Your judgement is clouded.’

‘Noted,' he said, before he finally stopped typing and curled and unfurled his fingers. ‘My intention is get Touta here, on his own.’

‘As you wish.’

Raito could not help but feel troubled by the complacency of L.

He was too…calm.

************************

‘Raito…how are ...you?’

‘Good.’

The silence arrived once again, and it spoke volumes to Chou-Nan. ‘What do…you need…me to do?’

‘I need you to meet me at our second home.’ Raito gripped the phone tight. ‘Remember to look under the 5th plant pot for the keys.’

L would meet his brother and then his plans to get Touta would follow.

************************

L spoke to Aiber as he assembled his men. There had been the initial stares of interest from his team. Mumbles of, _‘is that him, doesn’t look like much to me,’_ could be heard, as he sat with the door closed and wind drifting through the half open window.

They had left the men to their own devices, as the sun had started to set. The drive was quiet, both simmering with harsh words exchanged as L’s orders for the helicopter were quickly quashed, by the almost panicked refusal.

He hoped Chou-Nan would follow their plan. There was always a plan. Second home meant, online, and 5th Plant pot meant, at 5pm live, green link login and password.

‘You are aware that no matter what happens, you will not be released?’

His thought of the plan scattered, interrupted by a threat. ‘I’ll accept my fate, as long as my brother is free.’

‘Why someone with a mind such as yours, chooses to hide behind a life that does little to maintain their sanity, I am at a loss to understand such motivations.’

‘You know nothing about me.’

‘Then tell me, Raito-kun.’

‘You will arrest me soon enough, so there's time, L.'

He felt the strong pull of heaviness as the words slipped from his mouth. The loss of his freedom was already a certainty, and the realisation, he would no longer factor in a life with his brother, was made concrete in that moment. Dr Hanoi would protect him, once he managed to get him away from Touta. And if it meant, he would be sharing a cell right next to him, so be it, he would ensure that he would pay for what he did. He flinched, the reality striking both his chest and his temples.

He saw the brand name Bufferin before he realised it was being offered to him. ‘No. Thank you.’

‘I think this is your need for self-flagellation as atonement for your sins?’ He still offered the bottle to him. ‘Is that why you like to endure pain, Raito-kun?’

He grabbed the bottle intending to throw it into the abyss of the vehicle.

‘Don’t.’

He was only aware a few seconds later that he was unable to move his arm when his intention failed to occur.

He twisted his wrist, escaping the grip, only for his aim to falter again.

L wrapped his hand around the bottle holding fist, but the slowly increasing pressure as blunt nails dug into the flesh on the back of his hand, contended his move. With a calm that did not show the discomfort of those nails, he guided his free hand to cover the invasive fingers that had breached the layers of his outer skin, and squeezed and pulled, slowly. 

The struggle between them was only evident in the pyre lit in their eyes, and their entangled hands.

The tendon in Raito’s neck flickered as he dug deeper into the soft meat of the bony hand, but the retaliating squeeze of an equal but opposing force-hurt, and though his face remained fixed, his eyes showed victory as the first trickle fell. However, his victory was short-lived, and he found himself face up, staring at the criss-cross of leather that lined the roof of the car, and the heat, as his skin twisted at the wrists. The rattling of the contents of the bottle alerted him that he still had it in his hand. He let go. It was air borne for a few seconds before it hit the floor with a soft rattling pat and rolled back and forth with the movement of the vehicle.

L could feel the knee as it sought his midsection, to shove him off, but he automatically lay flat against the body beneath.

The hands twisted, uncomfortable between the two bodies, with neither willing to let go, or neither willing to break eye contact, caused scuffling in the back of the vehicle. 

‘Get off,’ Raito strained, as he realised that a deceptive mass had lurked beneath the heavy coat.

‘If that is what you want, let go.’

‘And _you_ can’t let go of me because? You can’t control everyone, L, so you let go?’

‘Is that what you think, Raito-kun? That I want to control you?’

He was going to reply but stopped. He knew what he was dealing with. L liked to play games. If he continued, he would be walking into another one all too soon. He made himself consciously relax, taking all the weight.

L’s demeanour instantly changed, but he did not move.

‘I said, get off.’

Unmoving, his gaze became, what one could almost call...indecent. ‘Do you really want me to?’

The sound of the smack against the window, was loud. L was no longer lying flat on his suspect but leaning against the door from which his head had so readily connected.

‘You flatter yourself.’

L, nimble though dazed, climbed into the seat, too enlivened to sit properly, opting to crouch at the opposite end. Three successive huffs, came from the small tissue box by his knee. ‘It was just a thought, Raito-kun,’ he said, dabbing at the cut on his lip, and the crescent moons on the back of his hand. 

His eyes, thrilled.

********************

The house was approximately one hour and a half away. It was dark, small and secluded. 

The door was unlocked. 

‘Watari, how far away are the others? I see, thank you.’

The light illuminated a clean, and simply furnished place. A large open-plan room, with several interior doors possibly leading to bedrooms and other rooms, was at the far end. 

L stared at the tidy rows of cupboards, as the steam twisted around the spout of the kettle that had been filled and placed on the open hob.

He watched as Raito, headed toward the short corridor to the door on the left. 

His head was still alive and kicking up a storm, and he had taken several white pills from the cabinet and thrown them down his throat. He let the water run for a while and then drank the chilled water. He returned to the kitchen as the kettle whistled for his attention.

L moved to sit near him, as he sat down placing the tea on a patterned coaster. ‘I wouldn’t sit there if I were you,’ he warned, still reeling from their too close encounter.

He decided he would humour him. His brother was due soon, and his life was a mess. What did it matter where he sat? It mattered that they were at the end.

After taking another sip, Raito reached under the table, and pulled out a slim laptop, he connected it to a socket that was located beneath the rug under the table, typed, then waited. He turned the laptop towards L.

There on the screen was a picture, which looked like an owl in a tree.

‘L, meet Chou-Nan, Chou-Nan, meet L.’

In the absence of any words, Raito goaded him. ‘Did you really think I would let him anywhere near you?’

‘A pleasure…to make your…acquaintance…L.’

The picture of the owl blinked, he was sure of it. ‘This is not what we discussed.’

‘Yes, it is. You requested to speak with Chou-Nan, and I have made that possible.’

‘This could be anyone I am speaking to. This is not acceptable.’

‘It’s your choice.’

‘Then this meeting is over.’ L stood irate.

‘As I said, it’s your choice. Chou-Nan, remember what I said?’

‘Yes…Ito…I do.’

‘Then go.’

There was silence for a moment.

‘Thank you…Ito.’

‘No, Oniisan. Thank you.’

The screen froze, and then seemed to be buffering, before a small box appeared in the corner of the screen.

‘We have him, L!’

Raito sat stunned.

‘And to answer your question, no, never for one minute did I believe we would meet your brother face to face, Raito-kun, and for your information, the code you used for my phone, it only took 1 minute and 25 seconds to unscramble.’


	25. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence  
> Lots of detail that starts to tie up loose ends.  
> Let me know what you think! :-)  
> Enjoy! ♥

#  Chapter Twenty Four

‘You’re three minutes away from where exactly?’

‘Do you think I’m bluffing, Raito-kun? This is no bluff. Your brother is at a location approximately one mile from here. There is only one signal base strong enough to allow for your elaborate plan and that is in a location west of here. Your flourishes of distraction have served to aid in his discovery.’

‘You lost the opportunity to talk with my brother, due to your own doggedness. You're your own worst enemy.’

‘We shall see.’

Raito returned to his tepid drink, and the strong tannin that he usually liked, was too sharp. He poured the dregs down the sink, mentally reinforcing his faith in his brother. The red and white cloth flicked randomly as he dried the dishes, and the clinking sound of jostled metal cutlery was unnaturally loud as he used too much force to close the draw.

He turned, and was face to face with L, who had left about five minutes ago, following a call. 

‘We have him.’

Raito sighed, as if being put upon to play this game with a statement of his own. ‘Prove it.’ At the same time, he tried to hide the way his legs had given out, by leaning against the metal sink.

While their eyes remained fixed on each other, L removed the phone and pressed a button. A few seconds later, four men entered headed by Aiber, who did no more than give him a cursory look. 

A laptop, placed on the table next to his, was opened to a large screen.

Raito shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. ‘What?’

‘Please,’ L gestured to the laptop, evaluating any miniscule alterations in the features of his young antagonist.

The push against the sink was needed to propel himself forward and he waded through the thick air, gelled atoms and molecules, restricting his mobility, slowing his steps toward the light of the large screen, while the thought, _Don't have him, don't have him, don't have him_ , was stuck on repeat in his head.

The moments ticked by as the light reflected off his wide eyes, and the room was silent like a sign of respect for the dead, as they bore witness to the wave that engulfed him, pulled him out to sea, and dragged him so far down that he was drowning in the reality this that was L’s world, and he was helpless in it.

‘Shall we continue under the original plan, Raito-kun?’ The eyes sparkled in both glee and triumph.

For a moment words would not form. ‘Yes,’ he whispered as he coughed on the small amount of saliva.

‘Then, we go.’

He thought he was moving, but he was fixed in position, like a poor soul who happened to glance at Phorcys’s Gorgon daughter.

Fingers curled around his elbow, warming the area where the hairs stood on end beneath his clothes.

‘This will end soon, Raito-kun,’ L whispered, pulling him along.

As they left the house, the screen flickered.

There was a photo of him at graduation, one with his family, as well as one with him and Chou-Nan both five years old.

> **_ Breaking News! _ **

> _‘Yagami, Raito, School Fundraiser, is suspected of being the serial killer of 35 people and counting, including his brother and Head teacher. His accomplices Matsuda, Touta and his father police Chief, Yagami, Soichiro were known to have assisting in removing the bodies and keeping parts as trophies. His mother and his sister, unaware of their crimes, were sexually abused by both Raito and his father, consequently his sister gave birth to two children, who were buried in a run-down cemetery several miles away._

> _It has been speculated they murdered for money, syphoning millions to pay for their elaborate lifestyles including holidays, homes and funding a school, where the children were repeatedly and systematically abused in and outside the classroom._

> _Too scared to come forward, after being traumatised by their experience, they spoke of the laughter they heard while they were being assaulted._

> _The school has now shut following investigation into child trafficking and…'_

It was dated today.

He knew! Oh god he knew even if this were a complete fabrication, the stain on his family, his friends, and innocent work colleagues would be horrendous. They would find themselves under the spotlight as culprits and aiders to the atrocities, and they would be considered just as guilty, if not more so for doing nothing. Everyone’s lives would be destroyed; they would become notorious, a bleak time in history, books written about them, and used as a reference point and examples of ‘all that is wrong in the world’, and he would be crucified.

L continued to hold his arm, as he guided him. He was not steadying him, no, he was feeling the weight of defeat.

They sat quietly; the car idled with a sound he had become all too familiar with, sitting there wondering what he could do. He wanted to lash out, repeatedly, with something heavy and blunt, but it would not change the outcome, except to add further years, he believed, to an already extensive sentence.

‘The solution is simple, Raito-kun.’

Raito's brow furrowed. Simple? Simple, is not a word he would associate with his life at this moment.

L saw the skittering of thought across his face. ‘Helping to get your brother, will also give us Touta, and you will have a reduced sentence, for your assistance with the case, of course.’

Saliva pooled in his mouth: L’s sanctimony was nauseating.

‘Give me your brother.’

And there it was. L wanted him to give up Chou-Nan, play the same game that L had been playing with him. How could he do that? Why would he do that?

‘Yes,' he said. _To get to Touta._

The car was still idling. The driver, an operative of Aiber’s, waited for the order to move.

‘May I use your phone?’

‘As long as you give it back, and it does not meet the same demise as the first.’

The phone was warm, still using his code-old habits die hard, he dialled. 

It was answered on the first ring.

‘Yes, yes I’m fine.’ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I need to meet with Touta.’

L observed with morbid fascination. He had never had so many thrills in all his years of working. Yes, he had caught criminals, it was easy, effortless, but here, on this case, with this enigmatic creature of conflict, he had been pushed, pulled, defied, and challenged.

Raito nodded slightly. ‘Yes, at our home. I know, but it will be okay-you’ll see.’ 

He handed the phone back and rubbed at the pinprick of pain near his temple, careful to avoid the soiled thin tapes that stretched across his cut. A guilt pain, he would argue, caused by guilt, something he would not be able to erase, and would have to live with.

He continued rubbing, as thoughts of guilt emerged, as points to tick off on a list of incompetencies: he could not save him from L, he could not save him from his father, he could not save him from Touta, from a life of so much anguish. What kind of a brother was he, when he repeatedly, allowed his brother to suffer?

His psychological rant began to overtake his physical presence, and the inside of the car became blurred, seeming to move backwards, with the shed appearing dark and dingy. He tried to recall when he had left the car for this place. Did it not burn down all those years ago?

He could hear voices…

_‘Why did you do it?’_

The world suddenly became a rich burgundy, dark and solemn, and there it was, like a light at the end of a tunnel …the memory.

The wooden ceiling was cheap, but spacious. Water marks with their irregular brown outlines, seemed to spread across the wood like a virus. It hung low, with a rise in the middle.

His arms and legs were fixed across his father’s wooden block that stood solid and high, riddled with holes and gouges from tools that accidently slipped, digging deep into the wood, causing a permanent scar on its natural surface. But something lay in the air, all around him, a vile stench, that drew his attention away from his star fish position. Then as sound began to infiltrate the quiet of the shed, and he became aware that someone was here with him. Compelled to look, the unusual thick twisted necklace came loose, as he turned his head, his mind dulled with the capacity to do little more than breathe through the pain that began to move up his body. 

There he was, Chou-Nan, on the ground, dad shouting over him, his voice, growling words he had never heard him utter before, foul words of disgust.

Legs and arms numb, frozen in position, atrophied by its lack of use, he tried to move, and the vengeful pain pulsed through his body again.

‘Chou-Nan,’ he tried.

He inched over, and the small splinters of wood caught his skin, as he fell onto the concrete floor.

Suddenly, he was standing behind the solid back, his hand held the long thin scythe, and he raised it as high as his arms would allow, then he let it fall. The movements stopped, and the back that somehow no longer resembled the solid structure of his father, straightened, and turned slowly. Little by little, as the head turned, the body became a lean figure, almost caricature in nature. Fully turned, he stared down at the scythe buried in the back, and then a loud piercing sound that shook the shed exploded from his mouth, as Chou-Nan turned his fury to him.

Blinking he was looking into the clear unguarded, almost sympathetic eyes of L.

‘You have not been treating your body well.’ His statement was brief, before he eased away, remembering all too well the last time he had been too close when Raito had opened his eyes. ‘So, Raito-kun, where are we going?’ he prompted.

‘You will know soon enough,’ he stated, trying to maintain his air of confidence, while he was trembling with the anticipation of giving up his brother. 

‘Remember, there is only one end. And that is my end, Raito-kun.’

They drove for an hour until they came to a clearing with a house midway between the lodge and Raito’s home. It was not much to look at, but it looked well kept, homely. Under the lock he noticed scratches from years of use, where dangling keys had etched away the paint. Yes, L thought, this is a place that had been clearly frequented, the previous one, had looked like a rented accommodation, or a pit-stop.

Following him inside, the first thing L saw was a figure sitting near the window, and though his face was impassive, the gleam in the eye spoke enough for him to know, this person knew Raito, though it seemed odd, as if he were not looking at him but near him.

‘Ah, Ito… you brought... company.’ His voice was somewhat strained, but strong.

‘This is, L,’ Raito said, without so much as a flourish.

‘The L... I have…heard so much...about.’

L wanted to find something that would make this situation correct. It did not make sense unless…Raito was right all along, and it was Touta. ‘Raito, has been helping us on a case, and we would very much like it, if you would assist also.’

Raito had to hold back from a cramping in his stomach. Did it always start like this, an offer of assistance, then, on to blackmail, then to entrapment?

‘If I can help...the police …then happy…to do so.’

Raito noticed the absence of a usually constant presence. ‘Where is, Touta?’

‘He…will be here…shortly.’

‘What is he doing?’ L queried.

Chou-Nan smiled politely in a way Raito hadn't seen before.

‘What needs ....to be done.’

L sat to the side of his brother, the words cryptic, while he kept an eye on the door. The rest of the team would be arriving shortly. It would not take long to organise an airlift to their offices and then they could piece together this puzzle.

‘So, little brother…has been… causing a stir. He has been…known to do that…occasionally.’

‘Indeed.’

L only realised that Raito had been absent, when he returned and knelt in front of his brother on the dark grey carpet. He watched as he guided his hand towards the glass, then assisted in raising it to his lips. 

‘Better?’

‘Better.’

The reality stared at him. There was nothing about this in the reports.

Raito turned to L. Did he understand now?

When Chou-Nan had 'died', the old records replaced the new ones, the only thing they changed on the transfer was his name, his fading blindness had not been recorded.

L was about to speak, then paused, something was out of place, his phone had not signalled the arrival of his team. Withdrawing his phone from his pocket. There was no reception. They were in a dead zone.

The perfect hideaway.

L darted to the front door, and he blanched at the slumped driver.

Raito caught sight of his sudden movement. ‘What is it?’

‘There seems to be a problem, Raito-kun.’

‘Chou-Nan, where is Touta?’

‘He…he is...here... and it's...too late.'

Raito looked toward L, and he read the non-verbal sign immediately.

‘Chou-Nan, we need to leave right now.’

‘It is …too late …for me …Ito.’

‘No, it’s going to be alright, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, but we have to go.’

‘You must go...with L …do not … try and... change the …past…it is set …in stone.’

‘What do you mean?’ he looked confused. ‘Nothing is set in stone.’

‘You must...go, please!’ 

The brakes on the wheelchair, had been destroyed, bent at an angle so it couldn’t be unlocked, and Raito pulled on the locked metal wondering if Touta had done this or his brother. ‘You’re not making sense.’

‘Because…he knows...who my father is…Ito.’

His mind screeched to a halt. 

‘He told me …how they met...all those years...ago.’

Raito did not know if it was the room or him that seemed to lean to one side, and he sat heavily on the floor, resting against his brother’s legs. 

Chou-Nan's hand came to rest on his head and rubbed gently. ‘Shhh, Ito. It is past.’

‘You're my brother,’ he said, determined for Chou-Nan to hear the conviction in his voice, ‘we’re brothers, and he’s lying.’

‘No,' he said, as he continued stroking soothingly, 'he is ..not.’

************************

**_December 25 th, 2008_ **

The room was quiet. The single accommodation that Dr Hanoi had managed to organise for him after a particular beating and had him in the infirmary for more than a week: fractured cheek bone, and a dislocated arm, caused by his roommate twisting it, when he was shoved from his chair. An orderly, who was late for his rounds, happened to walk by the door. They had to clean the sheets, mop the room, and the walls had to be repainted as they could not get the stains out of the grey walls.

Hate was not a word that would aptly describe the emotion that he had felt day after day, night after night, and most of all, his brother for not being with him. Dead, gone. Did his father hurt Raito like he hurt him? There was no doubt he would, he hoped he hadn’t suffered.

The door was pushed open the same time as the knock.

‘There you are.’

He was unsure if it was real or not. ‘Touta-san, is that you?’ His voice was grainy from lack of use. 

He could make out the outline of Touta, it wasn’t clear, like a thin film of plastic over his eyes. He felt a breeze brush past his face at least three times, as if someone was testing to see if he could see. The kids in the institution had been doing that to him since he joined. He was waiting for the fist to connect like it usually did, after they realised, he could barely see it coming. He had suffered many a bruised eye and socket, when he couldn’t move away fast enough. No matter how often Dr Hanoi tried to keep him safe, there were always times, when he couldn’t. Dr Hanoi didn’t know that his sight was fading, he just assumed he was confused at times, and he wanted him to keep thinking that, otherwise, they would keep him stuck in a room for the rest of his life, believing that his walks in the garden were a waste of time, but for now, he could still make out the colours of the flowers, and for that he was grateful.

‘Just you here then?’ 

Chou-Nan did not answer. He knew the voice of Touta, he could pick it out from any crowd, but this voice, this tone, he did not recognise.

‘It took a while for me to find you, but I did. Your dad’s not as slick as he thinks he is.’ 

There was shuffling and he could make out a rectangular shape in his hand. Then, something familiar came into view, and he opened his mouth and the soft caramel centre, with a bitter chocolate coating, erupted on his tongue, and it was bliss.

‘Thought, you'd like that,' Touta smiled.

‘How did …you find me,’ he asked, And though alarm bells were ringing, he was glad for the company. Maybe he could tell Touta to help him get out. 

‘Easily, but let’s start at the beginning because I don’t have much time. It takes a lot to break into an institution and hide from the cameras.’

Chou-Nan could hear the rustling of the stiff clothes and realised he was wearing the staff uniform.

Touta patted his head. ‘So alone, with no family, poor thing. Well, your real family is here now.’

'Are you...going to....take me home?'

'I wish I could, but I can't. Your father made sure of that. But, I have something to share with you.'

‘What...what do...you mean.’

He could hear the tear of the paper again, and then more chocolate was pushed into his mouth.

‘Well, this is not the first time I’ve been here, unbelievably, this was the third, the first time, I almost got caught and had to restrategise, as those guards are pretty prompt most days.’

He could hear the change in the sound of the voice as Touta’s mouth was filled, then the scrunching of paper, and a tiny bump against the bin. ‘The second time, I got what I came for. You were drugged, after someone busted your lip, and it bled all over the pillow during the night, and just to let you know those bastards didn’t change your pillowcase for a week until Dr Hanoi almost fired them for it, but I managed to grab a blood sample.’

Chou-Nan sat quiet, waiting for the punchline.

‘Well, as your uncle, I guess I have every right to tell you.’ He could hear the mirth in the voice, and it sickened him. 'You're the spitting image of my brother'.

'What?'

'Oh, no body told you?' The sarcasm leeched from every syllable. 'Well, of course they wouldn't. Dr Hanoi has a way of shielding you. Let me make this clear to you, you're not your father's son, in fact, you're not even a twin.' He laughed quietly. 

‘You’re a... liar, Touta-san...why are you...saying these things?’

His fingers dug deep into his skin and pulled his thin face close. He took in the marks on the once handsome angelic face of a child, to the washed out face of a neglected child that had seen too much. ‘I don’t lie,' he whispered. 

'Then, you...are...misinformed.'

‘So, tell me, if I’m a liar, where are your so-called family, huh? Where’s your brother, mother, baby sister, aunties, uncles? Not here, do you know why, because they found out that you were not their family, and disowned you. Do you know your brother, has cleared out your side of the room. All happy families without you there.’

‘You’re a-

‘Took me all of a few days to find you, and your brother, with is huge intelligence, couldn’t get close. No, it wasn’t because he couldn’t find you, it was because he didn’t _want_ to find you. And no, your brother’s not dead.’

He couldn't breathe. _This is a lie_. ‘You’re a-‘

‘Your brother is living his life as a single son, enjoying all the benefits while you’re in here, but I’m here now and we can have some fun ourselves, this will come in the way of a little revenge for me, and a little revenge for you.’

 _He’s lying, he’s dead, that’s why he hasn’t found me_. ‘It’s…not….true.’ The pain he endured at the hands of his father was nothing compared to the mammoth rock that dropped onto his chest. It was as if Touta had changed into someone else, an evil person spewing demonic lies.

‘I know for sure, that you were the smarter of the two, you definitely stole some of it from your brother.'

'Prove...it,' he said. He may not be able to see well, but he would be able to make out the shape of his brother from a photo, especially if it was up close. 

Then Touta stood up, drawing his phone from his back pocket, and though his vision was fading, Chou-Nan could see, something glinting against the sun that seeped through the window, and through a torrent of memories, he saw the image that had plagued him since that day. The person in the corner face covered, the build, stature, body.

‘It was...you! It... was you! You!’ He screamed, tasting the salt, bitter and overwhelming, shaking the chair with all his might, spit flying from his mouth. 'Why?...Why?'

Chou-Nan, could feel the presence as it knelt in front of him, and hands ran up his legs and cupped his thin thighs, then his mouth. ‘As I said, smart. I was doing an excellent job before you found him. Wanted to take something from your mother when she decided to stay with your, pseudo father. It was only when you were born, that things came out in the wash, and your mother had nothing but fear of your father leaving. I believe it was your father that sent someone after my brother all those years ago; think he finally got it out of your mother, and then around 2007, he was arrested, for something he didn't do. But I got my own back a year later.' he said, referring to his attempt on Raito.'

Touta got up and ambled around the small room. Chou-Nan could see him picking things up, and putting them down, as if he was trying to ground himself, bring himself back to why he was here.

‘But I’ve been doing this a while, and I had someone-your father,' he gestured to him, 'to help me, and do you know?...,’ he paused, as if finding that time with his brother, ‘I remember, when my brother and I managed to corner this beautiful Asian lady, when we first started travelling, not the best part of London, by any means, and by the time we were finished with her, she looked like a car crash victim, don’t think they had anything left to bury. My morbid fascination found out she left behind a son. She was my first, and she wasn’t my last. I was about fifteen then, around late 2000, I think, my brother was about twenty three, a year after you were born, when they finally arrested him for something he actually didn't do.'

Chou-Nan had stopped crying and was listening. Listening intently. 'Where...did they...meet...if it's...true.'

'Now that's a story for another time. Anyway, back to your fake father, it’s amazing, it was as if your father knew you weren’t his, like a psychic or something. Knew what you were as soon as you were born.’

‘Doesn’t matter….what you…say, I won’t…help you.’

‘Help me and I won’t crawl in through your brother’s open window and leave his intestines hanging off the bed post.’

He moved closer and he placed a kiss on his forehead. ‘I will be back, soon, start the healing process.’

He had left, and Raito had found him a month later.

But it had been too late.

************************

Chou-Nan leaned over his brother feeling for him, then pulling him up so that he could press his forehead to his.

‘In your...satchel...in the bedroom…in the small side…pocket is all…the information... you need. You will be safe...now brother…but you will have...to let me go.’

Safe? What did he mean by safe? No. He would protect him, that was his job. This was Touta, who did this. Why wasn’t his brother doing anything? Why was his brother so calm? Why was he…

No, no, no, no. ‘Please, no,’ he whispered.

 _Now you know who I am._ ‘It...is time...you...must leave.’

‘Did he force you?’ he managed to get out. He needed to know that his wasn’t his fault. He needed to know this.

‘In a... way...but I... did it.’

When Touta had arrived with Raito that first day, with Touta, he wasn't sure if it was true that he was here. He had played with his mind, convinced him that Raito was alive, showing him pictures of him at school, making friends, then pictures of him mutilated and dead, saying that he changed his mind. He stopped eating, stop living what little life he had, wanting to die with his brother, as he finally convinced himself that it was better to die without doubt. Until that day, and he finally touched him, _'Bella'_ remembering those eyes, did he finally believe he was alive.

Unfortunately, Raito had become embroiled in a dangerous game, and he didn’t even know when he started finding funds, changed his name, and built a new life for them, that he had walked into psycho’s dream, who had built a life of murder alongside him, and who had planned this day since the death of his brother, Han Makimi, in 2007.

‘Why did you do it Chou-Nan?’

‘So, you...would live.’

He thought back to the apartment and thought about the look in the eyes of his brother and the stance of Touta as he loomed over him. Yes, he had loomed not stood. So many times, throughout the years, he found time, after time of images of when Chou-Nan was uncomfortable. The bag that he had brought Chou-Nan, he thought back, had not rustled like sweets, it had clinked slightly, like utensils.

Raito’s hand gripped the waist of his brother and held tight. Fingers digging into the jumper as he tried to hold on to what he knew would be lost to him forever.

‘How? Why? I don’t understand.’ He whispered.

‘Shhh…Ito…it is now past. I have cut … the string…that bound you to us…you will be free...Ito.’

The movement by the door alerted them to someone entering, and Touta with his back to them, closed the door, breaking the key off in the lock.

L removed the gun from his shoulder holster and aimed.

‘Good evening, L.’

Touta watched the fleeting perplexed look on the face of L, as he tried to understand how he knew him. 

‘This scenario plagued me for many years, and now that you are here, I find myself wishing for the game to continue. So much to talk about. Raito, I’ll get to you soon. Chou-Nan, we are not done yet and Lauciene,’ he turned his sincere gaze to L, almost child-like in nature, psychotic, ‘would you like to meet someone, who helped pave the way for all the others? Gave me the life skills that I hold dear today?’

The room remained silent.

‘Allow me to give you something.’

The folder hit the floor and tentatively with his gun still pointed, L picked it up.

Then he stopped breathing.

**Min Lawliet**

_D.O.B: 30th October 1972_

_D.O.D: 28 th October 2000_

His mother.


	26. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have thoroughly delighted in authoring this story and hoped it gave you some moments of respite from the world outside, even for a short while.  
> Would welcome your thoughts. 😊  
> Enjoy! ♥

#  Chapter Twenty Five 

**_October 31 st, 1993_ **

She grasped the metal bar to lift herself upright. It was a hard fraught battle, muscles taught, tendons strained, and her body tearing at the exit of her child. Yet, here, on all Hallows eve, 31st October, 1993, Lauciene, ‘ _happiness in exaltation’_ , entered the world without tears, eyes filled with wisdom and liquorice darkness: the day after she turned 21. 

The final year of Pharmaceutical Sciences is where she met Lauciene’s father, a sociology major. It had been a whirlwind romance that ended with him leaving two days after the birth. _‘_ I can’t do this.’ he uttered, leaving with a dazed almost absent stare, with the flowers still in his hand.

A week later, she swaddled him in her childhood blanket and registered his name at the impersonal registrars with the one thing he would always have of hers, her surname, Lawliet.

Where they lived wasn’t the best place, but it was home, and she had made it so, in the small flat in North London, England. One evening she found him flicking through a book. ‘Do you like the pictures,’ she asked, folding the clothes on the dining room table, second load already on the spin cycle, and the condensation finding places in the corners of windows, in an already damp flat.

‘The story is sad. I would not have been as trusting as the gingerbread man with a predator.’ 

He was one and a half. 

At the age of six, three days before is seventh birthday, his mother didn’t come home.

‘Lauciene, I need to talk to you, and I need you to be brave, okay,’ his grandfather, Ivars Lawleit had whispered. His voice quivering with each syllable, as he took his hand, guiding him to the warm kitchen. Where his books had been scattered, having spent the day while his mother went to work.

‘She’s not coming back, is she?’

Ivars choked while leaning against the table, and he was only aware of the arms that encircled him, after he tried to still his shaking body, and the monster, tearing at his insides, was tamed by the small arms that held him.

The details within the autopsy report, raised more questions than answers. No video footage, no witnesses, no one saw her leave work, and no one saw her when she was, it was claimed, hit by a truck. It wasn’t until he had tried to bury his daughter did issues arise, all focused around the release of her body. At first there were issues as to _where_ her body was, it had been 'misplaced', and the inconsistencies in the report raised some red flags, his lawyer had said.

He moved in with his grandfather, who gave him his mother’s old room, a shrine to her childhood. His addiction for sweets became a slow and permanent development, a psychological crutch to deal with her absence, by filling it with the tangible elements that made up the memories of her: when she would come home from work, hug, and kiss him as if she had been away for months. Sometimes, very rarely, he would hug her back. Her long midnight tresses would encase him, and the fragrances from her work in the laboratory that would linger on her clothes, meant she would always smell of cinnamaldehyde and vanillin, organic aldehydes, from preparing essential oils for vaporisation for gas chromatography and mass spectrometry for well-known pharmaceutical companies. In his mind she was vanilla and cinnamon, with a hint of fruit flavoured lip balm. Her very presence was a beguiling mix of captivating scents.

Now, he moved around the house silent, a quiet sombre presence, flitting from place to place, sometimes, not seeing his grandfather for an entire day.

His grandfather digging deeper about the issues surrounding her death, didn't notice the ever growing distance between Lauciene and the outside world. Instead, he focused on the lack of motivation from the police to find out more, when it was clear there had been foul play, _‘she was hit by a large fast moving vehicle’_ was not acceptable, if improbable if there was no fast moving vehicle. But that’s what the autopsy report had stated, and he would not rest until he found out more. 

Then one mild afternoon, Lauciene arrived home from school, and found his grandfather in his room, holding the photo of his mother, that he kept by his bed. The bronze frame held the precious moment where his mum was wrapped around him, all smiles and golden light.

‘Grandad?’

He didn’t look up. ‘Your mother was a beautiful child that grew into a stunning woman. You have her eyes.’

He placed his bag on the floor, then sat crossed legged at his feet. ‘Do I have her hands?’ He said, showing him small upturned palms.

Eyes ringed red with the soreness of pain, Ivars took Lauciene's hands and gave each of them a kiss. ‘Yes, and her hair, her quiet nature, and her sweet tooth’.

He hadn’t told his grandson the dire circumstances that had befallen his beautiful daughter, the horrendous act visited upon her that night, the body, no longer recognisable as a woman but a torso, with limbs missing. The funeral home had stated a cremation at the very earliest. But he was unable to open his mouth and pass on the knowledge to his grandson, no matter how bright he was. He was a child, and should remain one, untarnished by the harsh realities of life, and who, at this moment, was waiting for him to provide the comfort that he needed. And that meant his job included protecting him from unnecessary pain.

He wiped at his eyes and smiled. ‘What do you say to some tomato soup and triangle toast?’

Lauciene stood up and took the hand that was always offered to him. ‘Do we have jam? I could put that on the toast and dip in into the tomato soup.’

‘Well, sweet and savoury, I can’t argue with that.’

************************

‘She was completely naked, flayed her like a fish, she couldn’t scream because, well we... ‘He opened his mouth, and his tongue wiggled fast from side to side. ‘Along with her teeth and ears, in fact, there was hardly anything left to bury. Do you know what I remember most about her,’ he crowed, ‘she smelled like vanilla ice-cream.’

The world had shrunk to a single penetrating voice that had wrestled the door to his mind open, and for the life of him, he couldn’t close it. The memories of her laugh, her smile, her tears when she would think about her mother, and her hugs, and her voice, _‘Be wonderful always, my beautiful son, the world is out there waiting.’_

His fingers, uncoordinated could do little to stop the spill of the contents from the file. A photo fluttered to the ground, and he saw her, his mother, asleep, possibly dreaming; she would have looked at peace, content, if not for the red line that circled her forehead, the skull exposed, the photo of a leg by her side and the fingers scattered near her breasts, which lay like ornaments on the ground, now flat and small.

‘My first, and my brother’s-well, not sure how many he did by then. Do you remember, Hans Mikami, you found him all those years ago, found him guilty for the mass murder of a young family, mother and three children? Not much of a trial, simply dying in police custody.’

Answering Touta would mean taking his eyes from the photos of his mother and getting his brain to engage in the scene around him. This was probably the ulterior motive: for him to become distracted, like now, when his memories drifted to his mum's cooking: _‘In there, I’m steaming the dumplings,' w_ ashing the dishes, ‘ _you missed a bit, give it a good scrub’_ , and taking him to the park, _‘'higher mummy! Higher.’_

‘Do you know who that was?’

Raito wanted to go to Chou-Nan, wanted to be near him. Protect him.

‘That was my brother who you murdered!’ he screeched. His lips pulled back over his teeth. ‘You allowed the police to take my brother. They beat him, L. They beat him until he could not stand. The bones in his legs shattered. Then they broke his arms until the bones were dust, and then jumped on his back. His back!’ he yelled, losing control of his temper. ‘His spine had snapped in four places, and he lay there, and he couldn’t move, then they turned him over, and jumped on his chest, every one of his ribs snapped, then they decided he needed his face kicked in. Have you ever seen a person with their face kicked in? They did that to my brother.’

‘What happens to the perpetrator after I catch them is up to the state. Your brother wasn’t innocent, if I remember correctly, he was already under investigation for a series of murders.’

‘But he was innocent of that crime!’ he yelled, his feet stomping loudly as he suddenly stood enraged, and the yell echoed throughout the space.

‘But your brother was dead, and you wanted to carry on the family business,’ Raito finally voiced.

Touta's vehemence became acutely focused on him. ‘Why do you think I joined the police force, Raito-kun? Murders are easy when you have a ready supply of victims, most of them weren’t even on the radar, and it was such an effortless way to hone my skills, a prostitute here, a drug dealer there, a homeless person there.’

‘But why?’ Raito asked, confusion in the worried lines etched above his eyebrows.

‘Chou-Nan, you want to get this one?’

He sat there, not knowing if he should explain the story, or let Touta explain it in his matter of fact way, the way he usually did.

‘Looks like I’m here to explain why we’re all here, like a movie, all wrapped up at the end. Well I have all the time in the world, your people are on a wild goose chase, they received a message from L, obviously it was me. Then he tapped the phone and enlarged the text. _‘At the cemetery, bring back up.’_ ‘Not too bright your men.’

He sat on the arm of the sofa one hand in his pocket, a nonchalant pose. ‘Well, let’s see, once upon a time, there was a young man named Han, my brother, he was a weird and wonderful child, scared his mother and hated his father. It turns out they had a lot to be scared about, he was a bully at school, and then he grew to be a six foot five wall of solid bully. Then one of the kids from school went missing, found him a few days later, like a hanging piece of meat – stay where you are Raito, otherwise I will have to be forced to do something I don’t want to, and L, put down the gun, there’s a red dot pointed at your chest.’

And there, like a crimson morning star, it appeared on his white jumper. 

‘Now, where were we. Oh yes, then-oh my god this is so cliché-he met your mother, good looking woman she was all those years ago. An affair that no-one saw coming, your dad, just beginning to make waves, and my brother, willing to make waves of his own. Long story short, your mother was a naughty woman.’ He laughed, ‘and by looking at her, you wouldn’t think it.’

Raito knew what was coming next, he just knew.

‘Well, she broke it off not too long after, but unfortunately, when you both were born, things didn’t add up, your father, couldn’t muddy the water quick enough, a missing number here a missing blood type there. He had put one and one together, and got, two brothers by two different fathers, and then, when they finally had enough evidence to set up my brother, and they came for him, L leading the case, and the entire farce instigated by your father,’ he said, turning to both of them, ‘that was something akin to, revenge.’

‘Can you hear yourself, Touta?’ Raito questioned. ‘Your brother was evil,’ he said, turning away from the photo on the floor.

L wondered at the sheer absurdity of the situation, mystified by the cognitive dissonance between committing a crime, and being caught for a crime was astonishing. Touta stood there without thoughts for all the crimes both him and his brother had committed, and balked, at being caught.

‘Do you know that when we finally were allowed to see his body, he was so swollen we did not recognise him. He looked like he had been run over by a truck, that backed up and ran over him again. You and the police are no better than me.’

‘Touta...let...them go...you have...done enough.’

‘Now we get to the good stuff.’ He continued, ignoring the soft plea.

************************

‘How long?’

‘One minute and counting!’

 _He better be alright, he better be alright, he better be alright._ ‘Aiber! Protect L. Raito, his brother and Touta go down-guns blazing, L would knows what to do.’ _If he’s alive._

************************

‘You,’ he said pointing to Raito, ‘would have been my final victim, before this,' he wafted his hands around, 'wanted to be done with this life, but then you came crying to me, _‘find my brother’_ he mimicked, ‘and it was too good to pass up, then with your dubious ways of soliciting money, you aided in my dream to find L, the man, who would only take high profile cases, so abused children of the most wealthy and affluent were targeted, and we have Raito to thank for doing such an outstanding job. Still, you, Raito, weren’t the last victim because you were saved by your- ‘

The door of the room burst open, and the whole scene unravelled in slow motion. Touta taking out his gun and pointing it at Chou-Nan, L raising his and pointing it at Touta, while Raito ran to protect his brother. Then he felt it, the thud in his shoulder that propelled him forward, eyes still fixed on his brother, head filled with the sound of gun fire, and another thud, in his leg, knocked him down.

‘Chou-Nan!’ he screamed, pushing himself up from the floor and crawling to him. Then hands, lots of hands grabbing at him, and he twisted and fought.

‘Let him go!’ L shouted.

He used the armrest to drag himself to an unstable standing position, and there, Chou-Nan sat, his eyes fixed on him with scarlet lips and rose tinted teeth, and three bullet holes in his chest.

‘See… I will always…look after…you.’ He grabbed Raito’s hand tightly. ‘You...are... safe…Ito.’

‘Thank you, oniisan.’ Was all he could say.

Raito watched as Chou-Nan's lips began to slacken, and his head bowed and eyes closed, The grip on his hand loosened until it became lax and without strength.

Then the movements around him disappeared.

And he remembered…

_Playing in the garden, he waited for Chou-Nan to finish up his hour piano lesson with Miss Greain, his father at work, his mother at the next door neighbours, her regular visit to the elderly Mrs Kansiou, like she did every Sunday and Wednesday._

_Touta had eased into the garden, back gate quietly opening and closing behind him._

_‘Hey there, Raito-Chan, how goes it?’ I wanted to know if I could borrow one of your father’s tools, inside the shed?’_

_‘Sure, I’ll show you, I’m not really supposed to go in there without an adult, but, I’m pretty smart to know what not to touch.’_

_‘Yes, you are.’_

_As soon as he entered, there was a moment of blinding pain, and then nothing._

_When he came round, he was facing the wooden ceiling, and the water marks that had been caused by the rain, and wondered at the burning all over his body._

_His mouth felt lax, he couldn’t speak words not forming._

_'This is for your real father, my brother and for you, unbelievably, I'm saving you from yourself. It’s in the blood, and blood begets blood, and you will not be able to fight the urge.’ said the man in the mask and gloves as he stood over him._

_He had stripped his torso bare, with the scalpel, nicking and gouging his skin as he did so, cutting at the jeans, and shirt he wore, his arms was quickly peppered with open wounds. Was it intentional? Maybe, did it cause pain? Yes._

_'I gave you a little something, but you’ll be fine.’_

_The tears inched down the side of his eyes dripping onto the board underneath him, and his heart almost stopped when the small garden fork came into view._

_‘This looks like it could do a little damage, oh, and all this,’ he said, waving his hand, ‘is in respect of my brother, your father,'_

_Raito didn’t register the feeling once the fork dragged across his skin, he just knew, is was white hot in colour, leaving behind a burn like the heat of the sun. His arms, legs and thighs, burned with a white hot heat, and he eventually stopped trying to find out where the next shot of pain was going to be. Then the hammer came out, was raised high and it came down on his inner thigh. If he could have screamed, he would have._

_Then, he heard it, ‘Raito!’_

_The door to the shed yanked open, and the light from the outside cascaded in, then he heard scuffling, then a cry, something hitting the floor. In the haze, he suddenly heard his father’s voice strong and firm in the house, and the shed door quietly opened and closed. Then nimble fingers tried to untie him, tried to get him free. 'You’re safe, you’re safe.’_

_‘Oh my god! What have you done!’_

_‘'Da- ‘_

_Raito saw the strike, and then another, and then the repeated blows rained down on his brother, who crawled away, already covered in blood. He heard the shuffle as the large stone, they had found in the garden while making the flower beds, he could see lifted and dropped, rage saturating the room; the constant thud...thud...thud._

_He tried to scream, he did, but his voice, pleading to ‘'Stop!’ fell on deaf ears._

_Wondering if he could move, with the pain biting him all over. But he did it, he fell from the block, ropes loose, his body heavy as he dragged it across the floor, dirt filling the cuts on his skin and the claw marks from the fork. How could he stop his father, a man solid, strong and hurting his brother? The metal gleamed at him, and he reached for the scythe and swung with all he had, and it stuck sure and deep, the dark stain expanding out around the metal, felling his father like an oak. He crawled on his belly, ‘Get up, get up!’ He cried, as he grabbed his soiled wet shirt. Then one eye focused on him, the other, closed shut._

_'Thank you, Ito.’_

_He had been in and out of consciousness for days, when he arrived back home, his brother had gone, the shed had gone, and his memories, of being tortured, had gone._

Blinking he was back in the room. Sitting on the sofa, he did not recall making the journey to.

They airlifted his brother, while Touta had been taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital, dead at the scene, body a mass of disorganised flesh and a missing eye. They had searched for the supposed sniper that had aimed at L’s chest, what they found was a simple remote controlled LED, and when pushed, a small spot of light was emitted.

Dazed and covered in blood, he hadn’t wanted to leave with the paramedics, almost coming apart at the seams, when they threated to knock him out if he didn’t. L, had intervened, knowing what Raito needed to do. They had wrapped his leg and patched his shoulder, the bullet hole, a clean in and out.

The external hard drive was in the side pocket, just as Chou-Nan had said.

Amidst the debris and the police, he staggered to the laptop, and waited for the drive to show up and then he opened the folder to hundreds of files 

L stood by, as the files appeared. The first file was a list created with dates, times places, references and names and people. The same for many of the other files. 

Then Raito saw it, and clicked on the video link. 

_‘Please,’_ he whispered, the stain on the floor, like a throw rug, in an irregular circle on the paly green carpet.

_‘For your sins.’_

He hit pause, and the screen flickered, the machete on its journey towards the exposed neck. 

Within each folder sat a simple word document, a diary that summarised the information in each folder. The first line stated:

‘…he let my brother live, again.' 

Raito clicked on the next folder, which also had a diary.

‘…he let my brother live, again.' and the next.

‘…he let my brother live, again.' and the next.

It was not the knowledge that his brother helped Touta, it was the knowledge that in doing so, he had saved his life, every single day. 

Eyes blurring with pain and blood loss, he continued. He found a familiar document: their NPA file, the one he had deleted. Why was it here?

His finger moved quickly flicking through the pages of the multipage document, and then there, on the last page was a scanned and cropped PDF of a paternity test, Raito’s hair sample and Han’s.

It had been a 99.9% match.

Soichiro was not his father.

So, Chou-Nan had known, at some point he had known that he Raito, had a murder for a father, and still...he had loved him.

L stood behind and listened to the quiet breaths of the young man seated by him. The files dense with information that he would need to spend a considerable time reviewing, tempted him with its hidden mystery. Did it have to end like this? Yes, someone was going to die, either over time in prison, or over a bullet in a stand-off, and for the first time in his career, he wondered about all his other 'catch and returns'.

‘It is time, Raito-kun.’

Raito had stood and allowed the paramedics to guide him away.

** Epilogue **

Winter had finally arrived, and it was a bitter agent.

They left the suite, the building, the province, after they no longer ‘required his service’ at the NPA building.

He recalled that day, when it was like the sky had fallen, and everything was covered in a cloudy haze, his brother gone forever and his body in shock. His father had barrelled into the interrogation room, as he sat there covered in his brother's blood, unable to do more than look at him and then through him.

This was his fault, if he had stopped to talk, to find out why Chou-Nan was soaked from head to toe in blood, this life would not exist, and they would have had a manhunt for Touta in hours. But the cuts on his hand from beating his brother, and pulling the scythe out, well, these were the reminders of a life of lies, lies that he, Raito was just as guilty of possessing as him.

 _‘What have you done?_ ’ Were the first words out of his mouth.

He had ignored him then, as he does now.

A week later, he received feedback from the interview, and it was confirmed that _, ‘following the interview, we would like to offer you the position of Senior lecturer at Wammy’s School for the Gifted.’_ With an officer standing guard outside his home, he started packing his belongings, some he would ship to Wammy’s estate, while the rest would remain in storage.

Over the next two weeks, L came to his home, his curiosity getting the better of him when he needed to corroborate further details about the files, and it was more effective if he just stayed.

Other times, he thought, he wasn’t sure if it was the case or the company. There was a mutual agreement, that he would continue to aid in their investigation, however the final outcome was riding on L’s verdict about how he faired; so far, he had all but agreed, his extracurricular activities had broken several federal laws, and though he was not directly involved in the murders, his relationship with the perpetrators, was still a tenuous one, and meant that he couldn’t just walk away. 

Sometimes L would arrive, laptop in hand and work for hours, while he himself worked on not just their case, but others. Maybe his criminal and police experience, and everything in between, gave him a better perspective. 

At other times, he worked on tying up loose ends with the school, which was still his, that was the only time throughout the days did he show any signs of anger, when there was talk of closing it down. The current faculty would continue running the school until ‘Takian Yamoai’ officially handed it over to them, as in L and him.

L had been less intrusive and more focused on listening, it made a change from his commitment to see him hung, drawn and quartered. Maybe being part of all this, that had tied them eternally together, had given him something that he hadn’t had before, a connection with someone. He had already started digging into the death of his mother, the truth that his grandfather had hidden. It's funny how we always hide the truth, when we believe it would hurt more than the lie.

He had tried to visit his mother and sister, but the pain had been raw. His mother had opened the door, and stood, hand on the handle, tears already flowing, as she stepped aside. The kitchen was empty, no wonderful aromas from food cooking on the stove. Nothing but the kitchen clock showed any movement, in this, the heart of the home. 

His sister was unforgiving, she had lost two brothers, one for a second time, and the other, to circumstances he had created. And so Sayu hadn’t opened the door, and didn’t want to see him, and he understood. To her, he was to blame for her father being ‘investigated’, her mother being ostracised, and her brother being alive all this time and not telling her, _‘You should have told me my brother was alive.’_

Those words had cut deep, especially the words, ‘my brother.’

His mother, sister, and father, did not know the extent of his involvement in the case, probably never would, but for now, what they knew was enough to cast a shadow over his place in the family.

Finally, here he stood, a moment of peace, as he watched the changing sky. The wind tussled with his clothes and hair, and the world continued on, ignoring the micro changes to the lives of those that dwelt on her.

L turned to him and nodded once and then walked away.

They were good-for now.

Comfortable? Yes.

Trusting? No.

It was too soon. The water under that bridge had yet to subside. 

He waited a little while longer as the water took away the remains of his brother. Wherever the ocean decided to take him, that is where he should be. His soul running free.

L watched on, and though he may have experienced life in all its ugly and beautiful forms, he had yet to know someone as enigmatic as Raito, who had created a world built not on greed, but compassion and love.

Not what he expected.

It was hard to admit that he had finally found someone not unlike him, his heart had not skipped a beat, and no, he did not have a sudden epiphany about his feelings. He was content in knowing that he would be working with Raito soon. Wammy’s was a great school, and he would wait until Raito was settled before he made his appearance and affiliations known. Maybe they could continue their civility and hope for amicability in working together in the future. Maybe creating affiliation with the Nikkou school, working on overseas programmes for those who were particularly gifted, and sponsor academic programmes. Yes, things could work out.

The car idled as it usually did.

Matt and Mello sat in a heap of limbs, focused on their phones, ear buds in.

‘We will be at the airport soon, Raito-kun?’

He would catch a plane in the next few hours to England, and L, in his wonderful, _‘I know what I’m doing’_ kind of way, informed him that they, that was him, Matt, Mello and some of the team, were going too.

He wasn’t sure if L was meeting with the local police to inform them they had a criminal in their midst, and he would be fitted with an ankle tag, or if maybe they wanted to confirm he had settled into a real job, and was not heading for the hills. 

He closed his eyes for what he thought was a few moments.

‘We are here, Raito-kun.’

The realisation that he was outside the school, had him swallowing back his emotions.

‘You must say goodbye to the children, they will want to spend time with you.’

He hadn’t wanted to. Scared to. ‘Careful, your caring side is showing.’

The walk from the door to the class was overwhelming, the kids came out in droves. He was a hero to them, a hero they read about in the papers, online and in the news. He, Raito Yagami, had ‘helped’ to catch the killer. Only time would tell if that initial view stayed the same.

His freedom was still in L’s hands.

He sat at the window seat of the Legacy 650, while the voice on the tannoy had blared out:

‘This is your captain speaking, sit the hell down and buckle up, I’ve just received my pilot's licence, and I can’t navigate this plane if your all standing, unbalancing it and shit. Now,’ he mumbled, ‘where’s the windscreen wipers, these windows are filthy.’

Yes, his life from this point onwards would be a different kind of challenge. But for now he was content in letting someone else take the wheel and navigate his life, even if they were frustratingly adept at solving cases. 

...But he wasn't far behind.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Until next time.


End file.
